Youve achieved nothing, he declared. He didnt realise that the man who would soon be my boss was my son by my former husband.
The shirt! The white one! Could you not have guessed?
Rodericks voice cut through the dawn hush of the kitchen like a razor.
He stood in the middle of the room, fiercely tightening the knot on his most expensive tie, and stared at me as if I were a mindless servant.
Today theyll introduce the new managing director. I have to look a million pounds worth.
Silently, without a word, I handed him a hanger bearing a perfectly pressed ivory shirt. He snatched it as though I were stealing his precious time. Rodericks nerves were frayed; in moments like this he turned into a lump of bile and simmering aggression.
He poured his wrath on me, the only person in his world he believed would never fight back.
That newcomer is a real upstart. A lad already at the top. They say his surname is Vance.
My fingers froze on the coffee pots handle. Just for a heartbeat. Vance. The name of my first husband. The name of my son.
You cant understand that, Roderick snapped, staring at his reflection in the mirrored pantry doors. Youre just a housewife, tucked away in your comfortable swamp. Youve never wanted anything.
He adjusted his tie, a smug curl on his lips. The grimace was aimed not at me but at the successful man in the mirror he spent years polishing.
Then a different morning drifted into my mind, years ago.
I, swollen with tears, cradling little Archer in my arms, and my first husband Stanley, muttering helplessly that he had nothing to offer and could not provide for us.
It was in that leaky rented studio that I swore my son would have everything. I worked two, sometimes three jobs. First when Archer was at nursery, then at school. I fell asleep over his notebooks, later over university notes. I sold the only thing I ownedmy grandmothers flatso he could take an internship in the Cambridge tech corridor.
He was my flagship project, my most precious startup.
They say hes the son of a poor engineer, Roderick continued, savoring the detail like a gourmand. Imagine that: from mud to a prince. Those are usually the coldest.
He recalled humiliating my exhusband at a drunken corporate party. Stanley had once joined their firm with a proposal. Roderick had called him a dreamer with empty pockets and laughed loudly. Those moments fed his swollen ego.
Hand me the shoe brush. And the cream. Quickly.
I fetched everything he asked for. My hands did not tremble; an absolute silence reigned inside me.
Roderick didnt know that his new boss was not merely Vance. He had no inkling that the lad was a cofounder of an IT firm recently bought by their holding for a fortune, making him the director of an entire division. He also didnt realise that this upstart remembered the woman who had made his mother weep into her pillow.
He left, the door creaking as was his custom. I stayed alone, walked to the window and watched his car pull away.
That day Roderick was heading to the most important meeting of his life, ignorant that it was in fact his own scaffold.
That evening the doors burst open as if slammed by a foot. Roderick stormed into the hallway, his face flushed, his loosened tie dangling like a freed moth.
I hate this! he hissed, hurling his briefcase into a corner.
Do you realise what this brat allows himself?
I slipped out of the kitchen, watching him glide down the corridor like a tiger in a cage.
He spoke to me as if I were a fresh graduate on placement! With me! With the head of a key department! He tore my quarterly report apart, line by line, every figure! Asked if Id bought a diploma at a market!
In his words I heard not humiliation but a cold professionalism. This was my son, Archer. He always drilled into details, leaving nothing unnoticed.
Do you know what he said at the end? Roderick halted before me, panic flickering in his eyes. Mr. Vance, Im genuinely surprised you still occupy this post with such numbers. I hope this is a minor misunderstanding and you wont disappoint me further. That was a threatdirected at me!
He expected sympathy, advice, support. I remained silent, just watching the broken, bitter man, feeling nothingabsolutely nothing.
Why are you silent? he exploded. Do you not care? Do you not mind that the man who feeds, clothes, and soils you in the mud?
Then a brilliant idea, born of pure fear, ignited in his eyes.
I know what to do! Ill fix everything. Ill prove to Vance Im not just a cog. Ill invite him to dinner. To our home.
I met his gaze.
Yes, yes! In an informal setting people reveal themselves. Hell see my house, my status. And you he shot a predatory glance at me. Youll try. Show that I have a solid backstop, a perfect wife and an ideal household. Thats your only chance to be useful.
He thought the plan clever, a way to use me as a backdrop.
Then something clicked inside me. I saw the whole picture: the perfect storm he had crafted with his own hands, and I realised it was my chance.
Fine, I said calmly, unaware of the trap. Ill arrange the dinner.
The doorbell rang precisely at seven, clear as a signal.
Roderick, who had been pacing for half an hour, sprang to the hallway, a practiced smile freezing on his face. I followed, prepared all his favourite dishes, constructing the illusion of the perfect picture he coveteda perfect trap.
The door opened. Archer stood on the threshold, tall in a flawless suit, looking older than his twentysix years. His gaze was steady and confident. He extended his hand to Roderick.
Archer Vance. Thank you for the invitation.
Roderick shook it vigorously, his grip far stronger than his own.
Roderick Vance! Delighted! Come in, make yourself at home!
Archer stepped inside, his eyes finding mine. He did not smile, only staredlong, serious. In that stare lay our shared history.
And this is my wife, Katherine, Roderick announced, puffing up. My rock, my hope.
Were acquainted, Archer replied evenly, never averting his gaze.
Roderick froze, his smile trembling.
Acquainted? From where?
All evening he tried to regain control, bragging about his successes, peppering the conversation with illtimed jokes. Archer listened politely but distantly. The atmosphere at the table grew thick, sticky like tar. Roderick gulped wine after wine, feeling his plan crumble.
Then he struck at the most painful targetme.
Mr. Archer Vance, youre so young yet already at the top. Thats because you have the right bearings. As for my Katherine shes had no luck.
Archer set his fork down gently.
Her first husband was lets say a dreamer, Roderick sneered. An engineer with not a penny in his pocket. He lived on dreams and couldnt feed a family. So Katherine found happiness with me, because she herself achieved nothing.
The same old line, the final drop, spoken in front of my son, the son of that very engineerdreamer.
Enough.
I lifted my head.
Youre right, Roderick. I truly achieved nothing. No career, no millions.
I held a pause, watching his expression shift.
I had only one project. One single thing. My son.
I turned to Archer.
I poured everything into himmy whole life, all my strength, all my beliefso he could grow and never let people like you trample himself or his loved ones.
I looked back at the man. His face stretched, animal fear flashing in his eyes as realization finally arrived.
So meet him, Roderick. This is Archer Vance. Son of that very engineerdreamer. My most successful project.
The rooms air could be cut with a knife. Rodericks smile melted away, as did his pomposity.
Archer rose.
Mr. Vance, his voice was calm, yet metallic in its steadiness, thank you for dinner. It was instructive.
My father truly was a dreamer. He imagined a world where professionalism was prized above flattery. Too bad there was no room for that in your department.
Mr. Archer Vance I I didnt know Its a misunderstanding!
Your incompetence as a manager is a fact. So is your years of humiliating my mother. I expect my resignation letter on the desk tomorrow at nine. Dont force me to audit your projects. Youll find something there.
Roderick slumped, looking at me with a pleading glance. I stood as well.
Leave, Roderick.
My go sounded without a shout, without hatredjust a point.
He croaked, trying to justify.
Katherine you cant this house
The only thing you gave me was this house. And now its mine, I replied evenly. Pack everything that fits into one suitcase.
At last he understood. The game was over. He turned and left. The closing door sounded like a period at the end of a fartoolong sentence.
I remained in the living room. Archer stepped forward and took my hand.
Mum, how are you?
I looked at him, at my greatest achievement.
Now Im all right.
Did I achieve nothing? Perhaps. I never became a CEO, never amassed fortunes. I simply raised a man. And that proved enough to reclaim my life.
Six months later, the first thing I did after his departure was renovate. I stripped heavy wallpaper, hauled out bulky furniture that shouted status. The house stopped being a showroom for someone elses success; it became mine.
I opened a small flower shop with a workshop. Id always loved plants, though Roderick dismissed it as a pastime for simples. Turns out my hobby could bring both joy and a modest income.
It was Saturday when Archer dropped by.
Dad called, he said. He sent his regards. Hes got a huge grant for his waterpurification system. Hes heading to the tech hub at Skolkovo. He said you were right: dreaming is useful.
I smiled. We had long forgiven each others old wounds.
Mum, you know what I thought? Archer said, serious. That Roderick was right about something.
I raised an eyebrow.
You truly achieved nothing, in the sense he meant achievements. But you did far more. You kept yourself, you raised me. Thats not a project, Mum. Thats life. And youve lived it.
I gazed at my grown son, whose eyes no longer held childlike pain, only steady strength.
What will you do now? he asked.
Ive signed up for language classes, I replied, surprised at how easy the sentence sounded.
He nodded, and in his look was enough warmth and pride that I needed nothing else.
Did I achieve nothing? Perhaps. I simply began to livefor myself. And that is the greatest achievement of all.
