After Extracting My Bone Marrow, My Mother Regretted It

I served Mom a generous helping of mashed potatoes. “I cooked your favorite. Please, have as much as you’d like.”

She frowned, clearly displeased. “You can’t even call me ‘Mom’ anymore? Gavin, where are your manners?”

“M-Mom.” The word felt strange on my tongue. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d called her that, and now it felt unfamiliar.

I had stopped using that name because she seemed to dislike it.

When I was eight, I had run into Blake, who looked just like her.

Just one glance, and I recognized him immediately.

That’s how I found out about their new home.

I saw Blake being pinned down, swearing at someone.

I jumped in to help him.

I was filled with a fierce energy, and Mom who had come to find Blake saw me throwing punches.

She looked just as I remembered – nothing had changed.

The moment I saw her, my heart sparkled with hope.

But her eyes were filled with worry only for Blake as she scanned him repeatedly.

Only when she saw he was unharmed did she shift her gaze to me.

She looked at me like I was a stranger.

No, even worse than that.

There was no warmth in her eyes – only pure disgust.

I thought she might have been startled by my fierce demeanor or that she hadn’t recognized me after so long.

“Mom, it’s me, Gavin. I was helping my brother…” I was desperate to explain, not wanting her to misunderstand.

“Shut up! And don’t call me ‘Mom’! Blake is so well-behaved; he’s never been in a fight. Why would he suddenly start after you show up? And you helped him?”

I glanced at Blake, hoping he’d come to my defense.

He rubbed against Mom’s arm and obediently said, “Mom, I wasn’t fighting. It was my brother who fought. I told him not to.”

His innocent demeanor was a stark contrast to the foul-mouthed boy I’d just seen.

In that moment, I felt utterly defeated, unable to defend myself.

Mom gently patted Blake’s head, speaking softly, “Blake, I know you’ve always been good. I believe you.”

Then she turned to me, her expression shifting from warmth to disgust.

“Gavin, don’t ever call me ‘Mom’ again! I’m afraid of you being a bad influence and embarrassing me.”

My thoughts drifted back to the present, and I heard Mom’s impatient voice again.

“And why did you serve me so much potato? Are you trying to stuff me to death? Can’t you see your brother wants soup? Hurry up and serve him some!”

I obeyed, filling a bowl with soup for Blake. I wanted to serve Mom some vegetables, but Blake beat me to it.

Mom smiled at him, saying, “Blake is so considerate. You should eat too.”

I opened my mouth, but in the end, I said nothing.