To hide his affair, Herman inflicts emotional distress upon his stepson. When his jilted wife, the boy’s mother, learns the truth, she calmly delivers justice.
The soft melodies of Billie Holiday filled the room, the sultry voice surrounding the entangled figures on the white sofa. Herman, in his thirties, and Jezebel, his mistress, shared stolen moments in the dimly lit living room.
“This is so naughty of us!” Jezebel whispered. “What if your wife comes home early?”
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“My wife hasn’t come home early in at least a year! We have the whole morning,” Herman insisted.
“The whole morning!” Jezebel echoed. “Well, in that case, best we make the most of it, Mr. Loverman. Kiss me like you mean it.”
“That’s not all I’m going to do; just wait,” Herman replied, tossing his sweater aside.
They lost themselves in the moment, but a creaking door interrupted them. Panic gripped the pair; Herman’s wife wasn’t supposed to be back for hours.
“Who is it?” Jezebel whispered.
“It can’t be my wife,” Herman pleaded. “She told me she was working late. Quick, get—”
The front door slammed shut, and Herman faced the music.
A young voice broke the tension. “Herman? Are you here?” Herman’s son, Jake, entered, backpack slung over his shoulders.
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“What are you doing home, Jake?” Herman asked angrily.
“They made us go home early because of a scare,” Jake explained. “They thought there was someone with a gun in the school. Herman, who is this lady?” Jake asked, looking at Jezebel.
Herman denied Jezebel’s presence. “Jake, you must be seeing things.”
“But I see a lady right there,” Jake insisted.
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Herman concocted a lie about Jake’s shock from the school scare.
“Close your eyes and count to ten. If you can’t see the ghost, it can’t see you. And you see, it’ll disappear if you do that.”
Jezebel disappeared into the bedroom as Jake obediently counted. When he opened his eyes, the woman was gone.
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“I made her disappear?” Jake exclaimed.
“You got rid of the ghost. You’re a brave young man,” Herman assured.
After coaxing Jake to keep the encounter a secret, Herman allowed him unlimited screen time.
After Jake left, Jezebel re-entered the room, disapproving of Herman’s actions. “What was that? You lied to your son?”
“Stepson,” Herman corrected. “What did you expect? Tell him about us? Admit to our affair? I’ll do whatever it takes to keep us together.”
Jezebel sighed. “Okay, cool,” she said.
“That was close, though,” Herman said. “We’ll get back to what we were doing another time!”
“Yeah,” she agreed, kissing him goodbye. “See you later, Loverman,” she added seductively.
***
Herman’s wife, Grace, returned home after sunset. Tension enveloped the dinner table as they sat down to eat. Jake seized the opportunity to share his peculiar day.
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“Mom,” he began, “we left school early today because they thought there was someone with a g un inside.”
“What…what happened?” Grace gasped.
“It was a false alarm. Everything’s fine, right, Jake?” Herman interjected.
“I’m fine,” Jake said. “But when I came home, I saw a ghost.”
“A ghost?” Grace asked, concerned.
“It’s just his imagination,” Herman intervened, concealing his panic. “Post-traumatic stress from the school scare.”
Ignoring Herman, Grace focused on Jake. “What did the ghost look like?”
“She was a lady with big, frizzy hair,” Jake explained.
“She?” Grace repeated, looking at Herman.
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Herman laughed nervously. “He must be in shock. Go watch cartoons,” he told Jake.
After Jake left, Herman leaned in, trying to placate Grace. The tension lingered.
“I’ll call the school and get Jake an appointment with the psychologist,” Grace said. “Now that you’re not working, you can take him to the appointment.”
Herman almost yelled, “I’m trying to find a job!”
“I know. But..Maybe spend less time at that Moe’s Diner you visit often and help more with Jake,” Grace suggested stiffly.
Herman didn’t say much, promising to help her with her son.
After dinner, Grace decided to talk to Jake. “Talk to the counselor at school. It might help you understand what’s going on, honey, alright?”
“Okay, Mom,” Jake said sweetly and wished Herman and Grace good night.
Herman’s heart sank in regret, realizing his secret tryst with Jezebel was unraveling. He had hoped to manage the affair, but it was proving more complicated than expected.
As they sat in the living room, Grace’s eyes locked with Herman’s. “It’s for the best that we’re taking him to a doctor. My boy’s well-being is at stake.”
They argued, and Herman again said it wasn’t needed, but Grace’s determination prevailed. “I’ll make an appointment with the psychologist for Jake! And I’m taking him there myself!”
***
In Dr. Warren’s child-friendly office, Jake’s anxiety was palpable. His tiny hands gripped the chair he sat in.
Dr. Warren greeted him warmly. “Let’s talk about what happened, Jake.”
Jake hesitated, recalling the frightening incident that brought him here and Herman’s trick with ghosts. “Herman said if I close my eyes, the ghost would disappear.”
Dr. Warren turned to Grace. “What trick did Herman show you? What ghosts?”
Grace explained Herman’s role in their lives — that he was her second husband — and Jake continued, “Herman said when I close my eyes, the ghost can’t see me, so it goes away.”
Dr. Warren addressed Jake gently. “Closing your eyes won’t make dangerous things go away. It’s important to talk to someone you trust.”
Jake nodded, sharing his fear of the ghost breaking up his family. “I saw a Iady. I am scared that lady will make Herman leave Mom.”
Dr. Warren looked at Grace. “I’m going to recommend regular visits to help Jake understand these feelings better. Jake,” he added, turning to the boy, “can you please excuse us? Your mom will be out in just a minute. I want to make an appointment for your next visit with her.”
Jake nodded and left the room.
“I divorced Jake’s father because he was unfaithful. He had an affair,” Grace told Dr. Warren.
The man nodded. “I think what’s happening with Jake is a classic case of Kleinian Projective Identification,” he said.
“Is it serious? What…what can we do?” Grace asked, concerned for her little boy.
“Don’t worry,” Dr. Warren reassured her. “It’s just a theory in child psychology based on Melanie Klein’s work. Projective identification involves a child projecting feelings onto another or the world outside, often with the intent of making the other person experience what the projector is feeling, causing delusional behavior, like Jake’s. We can deal with this.”
“I just want what’s best for Jake,” Grace said worriedly. “If you think you can help him, then we’ll do whatever it takes.”
“I’d like to work with Jake,” Dr. Warren continued. “He might need counseIing and medication. I’m here to support both of you.”
***
Grace briefed Herman on Dr. Warren’s diagnosis over dinner. “What did he call it?” Herman asked.
“Something about projecting fears onto the externaI world,” Grace said.
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“Is it a real issue?” Herman inquired.
“Yes, according to Dr. Warren. Jake might need medication,” Grace replied.
Herman Iowered his head and concentrated on eating his food. “Is something wrong?” Grace asked him.
“Uh, no, no, nothing wrong,” Herman said unconvincingly. “Just thinking.”
“I’m taking the afternoon off tomorrow and taking Jake out for lunch. I think it will be good if he and I spend some time together. Maybe he will open up about what’s troubling him.”
“Okay,” Herman agreed nervously.
At Moe’s Diner, Grace and Jake discussed the menu. Suddenly, Jake closed his eyes, claiming to see the ghost from their living room.
“The ghost? Are you sure, honey?” Grace asked, worried and concerned.
Jake pointed to the frizzy-haired waitress, Jezebel. Grace approached her, inquiring about any unusual experiences at the restaurant. But Jezebel denied any ghostly occurrences.
Grace, suspicious, pressed on, “It’s just that sometimes kids pick up on things, you know? Strange vibes or unusual occurrences. It would put my mind at ease to know if there’s anything unusual about this place. For my son’s sake.”
Jezebel dismissed Grace’s doubts, claiming that Jake had an overactive imagination. Grace thanked her and returned to the table.
But the woman sensed something off about Jezebel. Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that the truth was within reach.
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When Jezebel dropped the food, Grace said nothing. Jake closed his eyes and began counting again.
“It’s okay now, Jake, she’s gone,” Grace assured. Jake opened his eyes, focusing on his ice cream.
Grace had an idea. “Jake, should we call Herman and ask him to join us for lunch?”
Jake nodded unenthusiastically.
Grace smiled, pleased. “But my phone’s dead. I’ll ask the waitress if I can use hers.”
Approaching Jezebel, Grace said, “My phone’s almost flat. Can I use yours to make a quick call to my office?”
Jezebel handed her phone reluctantly. “No problem. Go right ahead,” she said.
Grace dialed Herman’s number and got the shock of her life when the caller ID on Jezebel’s phone revealed “Loverman.” Shocked, Grace hung up quickly and returned to the table. But now the truth was out.
With a weak smile, she encouraged Jake to finish his food soon.
After arranging a playdate for Jake, Grace returned home. Settling on the sofa, she reached for her phone, dialing Dr. Warren.
“It’s Grace. I need your guidance and support.”
Grace recounted the events, revealing her plan to remove Herman’s belongings. Dr. Warren supported her decision.
Soon, the removal men arrived, packing up Herman’s things.
When Herman arrived, he was shocked. “Grace, what’s going on? What are these men doing with our things?” he asked, baffled.
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Grace imitated the charade Herman had once played with their son, a mocking smile on her lips.
“Herman, what men? I don’t see any men. You must be seeing ghosts. Oh, and to be clear, those are not our things; they are your things.”
Herman’s face paled. The tables had turned.
His voice quivered, “Grace, you must believe me. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I—”
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Grace cut him off, her voice firm and unwavering. “Herman, there is no room for excuses. The time for lies and infidelity is over. You know what you are to me now? A ghost!”
Herman’s eyes twisted up with regret, but Grace’s resolve held. She explained that all of his personal items were being moved to a storage facility, signaling the end of their shared life together.
“I’ve also been in consultation with Dr. Warren, and we’ve initiated criminal charges for emotional abuse. The police will be here shortly.”
Soon, two officers arrived, their badges glinting. They informed Herman of his rights and took him away; justice was served.
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Grace, feeling vindicated, turned to the door, closed her eyes, and counted to ten – her way of making Herman’s ghost disappear.
Opening her eyes, she saw Jake, who ran to her and embraced her.
Grace held him close. The road ahead was uncertain, but they were united, and they would face whatever challenges that lay ahead with courage and love.
I Felt Disappointed That My Grandfather Left Me Just an Old Apiary, but My Perspective Changed When I Inspected the Beehives
My late grandfather, a master storyteller who spun tales of buried treasure, left me a rather unexpected inheritance: a dusty old apiary. It felt like a cruel joke at first. Who would leave their grandchild a shack swarming with bees? My resentment lingered until the day I finally ventured into the beehives.
One typical morning, Aunt Daphne urged me to pack my bag for school, but I was too busy texting a friend about the upcoming dance and my crush, Scott. When she mentioned my grandfather’s dreams for me, my frustration grew. I had no interest in tending to his bees; I just wanted to enjoy my teenage life.
The next day, Aunt Daphne chastised me for my neglect, threatening to ground me. She insisted that caring for the apiary was part of my responsibility. Despite my protests, I reluctantly agreed to check on the hives. Donning protective gear, I opened the first hive, my heart racing. A bee stung my glove, and for a moment, I considered quitting. But a rush of determination took over, and I pressed on, hoping to show Aunt Daphne I could handle this.
While harvesting honey, I discovered a weathered plastic bag containing a faded map. Excited, I tucked it into my pocket and raced home to grab my bike. Following the map, I pedaled into the woods, recalling my grandfather’s stories that had once enchanted me.
I found myself in a clearing resembling a scene from one of his tales—the old gamekeeper’s house stood before me, decaying but still captivating. Memories flooded back of lazy afternoons spent there, listening to his stories. Touching the gnarled tree nearby, I recalled his playful warnings about the gnomes that supposedly lurked in the woods.
Inside the forgotten cabin, I uncovered a beautifully carved metal box. Inside was a note from Grandpa: “To my dear Robyn, this box contains a treasure for you, but do not open it until your journey’s true end” Though tempted, I knew I had to honor his wishes.
After exploring further, I realized I was lost and panic set in. Remembering Grandpa’s advice to stay calm, I pressed on, searching for a familiar path. Eventually, I stumbled upon the bridge he often spoke of, but it felt further away than I had hoped. Exhausted and disoriented, I collapsed beneath a tree, longing for home.
The next morning, determined to find my way, I recalled Grandpa’s lessons as I navigated through the wilderness. I found a river but was startled when I slipped into the icy water. Fighting against the current, I finally managed to cling to a log, eventually dragging myself to shore.
Soaked and trembling, I rummaged through my backpack, only to find stale crumbs. When I remembered Grandpa’s wisdom, I used healing leaves for my cuts and continued onward, drawn by the sound of rushing water. I finally reached the river again, but the water was treacherous. Desperate, I knelt to drink, but the current swept me away, and I found myself struggling against the powerful flow.
Determined not to give up, I let go of my backpack but clung to the metal box. With sheer will, I fought my way to the bank, finally escaping the icy grasp of the river. I needed shelter, so I built a makeshift one from branches under a sturdy oak tree.
The next morning, I set out once more, the metal box feeling like my only lifeline. Memories of fishing trips with Grandpa warmed me, urging me forward. When I finally spotted the bridge, hope surged within me. But the forest began to close in around me, confusion and despair threatening to overwhelm me. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I found a clearing and collapsed, utterly spent.
Then, I heard voices calling my name. I awoke in a hospital bed with Aunt Daphne by my side. Overcome with regret, I apologized for everything. She comforted me, reminding me of Grandpa’s unconditional love and how he always believed in me.
As she reached into her bag, my heart raced when I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper. It was an Xbox, a gift from Grandpa, meant to be given only when I understood the value of hard work. I realized then that I had learned that lesson, and the desire for the gift faded.
In the following years, I grew into my responsibilities, embracing the lessons my grandfather imparted. Now, as a mother myself, I reflect on those moments with gratitude. The sweet honey from my bees serves as a cherished reminder of the bond I shared with Grandpa, a bond that continues to guide me.
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