Devonne Brown

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“Did I miss a message?” She knew her son’s intentions, she just thought he knew better, she didn’t want to get into a sniping match, so she shut up. Some things were better left unsaid. Mama didn’t like it when her boy kept her car out all night without asking.

“I understand, I should have texted you to let you know, but it slipped my mind,” was a response, though not quite an apology. 

Her ego, bulbous and bruised, was partially assuaged by his words. She’d stung him in the right place, though. She was still his mother, and still felt the need to protect him from her own wrath. Mothers are always the most powerful people in their children’s lives. She could reduce him to a sniveling heap if she wasn’t careful. She didn’t want to do that damage. 

Relationships with adult kids were mirage-like sometimes. The little boy still craved Mom’s approval. When he made a mistake and got called on it, the tension in his spirit rose, his anxiety levels went up like the carnival hammer and bell game. She could hear the bell ringing when she put the hammer down, and backed off. 

She wasn’t above getting mileage out of his mistake though. She’d milk it a bit, use it against him for a while, get an extra chore or two out of him. The boy’s guilt-fueled, bulging psyche would be glad for that penance. He’d do anything to quell the guilt he felt. 

Mama smiled. Yeah, she knew she was being manipulative, but she had to get some enjoyment out of the situation. She loved the little bit of leverage his mistake gave her. She acknowledged his response with a simple, “I see.” She hoped he squirmed.