Thomas 's Moth er
I play multiple roles in my life, but that of a mother has been the toughest. As a mother, my job is to take care of the possible and trust god with the impossible. Hi, I am Thomas's mother. You might be wondering why I have barged in here.
I know it is Thomas's book. He is writing this for a very special reason, and being his mother, I think, I too must say something.
I am certain he will present me to you as a mother, blind to her son's immoralities. The woman who let him continue with his acts, even when she could have made a huge difference. Well, that's because he saw it like that. I was, for him, a mother, who did not have any inkling of the truth of her son's desires. The truth is, I was never blind to anything that happened in front of me or behind my back. I knew quite early on that there was something wrong with Thomas; that he was indulging in strange activities only as a repercussion of something else. I want to show you the facet of Thomas which even he never noticed himself. But a mother understands what a child never lets on.
When he was born, he had been a cute child with all the makings of a very good-looking man when he would grow up. Don't judge me, for I am a mother, and it is my right to believe my son was the most handsome.
Yet, I was not so naive to ignore that though far better in looks than his brother Noah, Thomas had too small a heart.
Noah, my elder son, was an ideal child. He adored his younger brother. I remember, he used to carry his brother's bag to school till class three. Thomas had always been so cute and easy on the eyes. Everyone who visited us played with him and pampered him. He was a favourite doll for all the ladies.
When Thomas was in class sixth, I was called to school because he had etched a nude figure on the classroom wooden desk. His class teacher had been livid at his shameful creation. I had known with the first glance that it was Thomas's doing. He had always been fascinated with women's legs, I had
noticed. I won't deny, the art on that table had been exceptionally good. And I had wondered how he could master all those details of a woman's body. He was, after all, only eleven years old. I had reprimanded him, but he was too young to comprehend such things.
He always asked for unusual gifts. When all boys his age asked for racing cars, roller skates, bicycles, chocolates and ice-creams, he demanded soft toys, Barbie dolls or a doll house, which even girls his age looked down upon. He liked to play with such things.
During his growing up years, I always noticed his curiosity for 'bad' movies, erotic books, adult magazines and other such things. I had noticed, but avoided the issue thinking it was a phase, and he would grow out of it. I did not stop him. For me, he was always too young to understand these things.
Once, we were watching the movie, and the notorious kissing scene between hero and heroine came up on the screen. Instinctively, I got up to switch off the TV. In those days, we did not have other channels to flip to. I cursed the channel people! Why on earth had they not deleted that scene? That day, before falling asleep, Thomas had asked, "Are babies born after kissing…?"
He wanted to take Biology in class eleventh, but his father forced him to take maths. He did not resist, but as he grew up, though his looks turned exceptionally good, he grew worse in studies year after year. These changes in his life were completely opposite to that of his brother Noah.
Thomas chose a couple of friends in his graduation years who smoked and abused drugs. I began finding Thomas smelling weird. I asked him a couple of times, casually. He always made senseless excuses. But his wavering eyes and illogical reasons gave away things he was trying hard to hide.
Thomas's father also noticed the changes. He stopped Thomas's pocket money immediately. He could not see his hard-earned money turning into smoke and delirium.
The bad Thomas turned worse. He started stealing things. To some extent, I funded his expenses silently. I wished to avoid anything drastic from happening.
As expected, Noah got a job as soon as he finished his education, while Thomas failed at everything he ever attempted in life. His
father refused to even speak to him. Whenever Thomas would feel emotional, he would hug me, but he did not cry. It was tough seeing the boy turn into stone, emotionally. I tried to recollect the last time he had cried. It was a shock when I realised it had been way back, when he was in class three. I don't deny we played our parts in it, but eventually my son, who could have been gold, turned into a stone-heart instead.
But Noah has a heart of gold. He gave me a small amount of money every month, as a token of respect. Without anyone finding out, I spent it silently on Thomas. After all, I am a weak mother too.
Life went on, things remained the same, and the circumstances were manageable. Then suddenly, everything took a turn for the bad, when Noah married Zara, a beautiful, talented girl. I noticed Thomas eyeing her a couple of times and tried to distract him. I made sure I was around when the two of them interacted, and asked Thomas to run some errand if I had to be out. I didn't know what more I could do without disturbing the peace of the house.
One day, he addressed Zara by her name. I had always heard him call her sister before that. I knew that day, he had broken the sanctity of a beautiful relationship.
I had a premonition where these things were heading, and soon enough, I was proven right. Noah mentioned an opportunity to work in Milan and I agreed readily.
Thomas, on the other hand, had finally fulfilled his dream; of teaching in a school of his choice. He had started working as a mathematics teacher in Verona. When he lost his earlier job, no school in Rome was willing to accommodate him and he did not hesitate even once before shifting to Verona. My small family broke as both my kids moved out of home. I was devastated.
While Noah and Zara settled in quite well in Milan, and even Zara started working, Thomas began deteriorating further. Out of his father's and brother's watchful gaze, he began showing his objectification for women openly. His comments were sharp and the slangs he used made one cringe. He only thought of women as bodies and their existence, for him, was solely to satisfy men's need. Every time I heard of molestation cases, I would get scared. I prayed to the Almighty to give Thomas the wisdom to
refrain. I knew how he thought, but I could also see that he had conditioned himself in a way that he could camouflage his desires behind sweet talk.
Almost after one year of shifting out, he came from Verona. In a roundabout manner, he asked me for some money. I presumed there was no improvement in his behaviour and must be in trouble owing to that.
I did not have the amount he needed, so I asked Noah. I was sure his father was not going to listen to me, even one bit. Noah agreed readily to help his younger brother. He immediately transferred three thousand Euros to my account but made a request. He wanted me to make sure that Thomas never came to Milan. He did not hate him, but did not want to see his face. I was hurt by his condition, and wondered what had led to this? Had he seen him eyeing Zara the way I had? Why would a husband tolerate such a thing? Or had Zara told him something? Whatever that may be, I could only ask when we met. But despite all that, I appreciated his helping his brother. At the core of my heart, I could sense that he still loved his brother. I had not failed as a mother, not completely.
I have continuously tried to pull Thomas out of the depths he has fallen into. I call him each Sunday so that he knows someone is keeping a track, someone is watching over, there is someone he can fall back on.
I have tried a lot and failed at many things in life, but I am not one to surrender. I tried to find the reason behind Thomas becoming the person that he had. Why could he not think of women in any other way? Was it because he never had a girl so close to him who could change him? Perhaps.
All that said and done, I still believe, one day, my Thomas will be a changed man.