My 32-Year-Old Son Threw a Wild Birthday Party at My House and Nearly Destroyed It

When my son asked to throw his birthday party at my place, I said yes without thinking twice. But the next day, when my house was in ruins and my heart in pieces, my 80-year-old neighbor knew exactly what to do.

You never expect your own child to treat you like a stranger. But somewhere along the line, that’s exactly what happened with Stuart. I used to think maybe it was just the years of growing up, moving out, and being busy.

A young man smiles while laying on a couch. | Source: Midjourney

A young man smiles while laying on a couch. | Source: Midjourney

I tried not to take it personally. But deep down, I missed the boy who used to bring me daisies from the garden and help me carry groceries without being asked.

When he called — rare as that was — I didn’t expect anything more than the usual quick check-in. But that day, his tone was almost… warm.

“Hey, Mom,” he said. “I was wondering. My place is kind of cramped, and I wanted to throw a party for my birthday. Nothing crazy. Just a few friends. Could I use your house?”

A house at night | Source: Midjourney

A house at night | Source: Midjourney

My heart did this little leap it hadn’t done in years. I should’ve asked more questions or just said no. But all I heard was my son reaching out. I said yes.

“Of course,” I told him. “I’ll be at Martha’s anyway, so you’ll have the place to yourselves.”

I didn’t hear any loud music that night. Martha’s house was a good walk away from mine, and her garden and trees muffled most sounds.

A big estate surrounded by trees | Source: Pexels

A big estate surrounded by trees | Source: Pexels

I spent the evening helping her with her crossword puzzle and watching some old cooking show reruns.

She fell asleep in her recliner, and I curled up with a blanket in the guest room, hoping my son was having a nice time with his friends and that maybe things could change.

Maybe Stuart and I would get back to what we used to have.

I was wrong.

A woman in her 50s with a small smile | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 50s with a small smile | Source: Midjourney

The morning air was brisk when I stepped out of Martha’s back door. Her caretaker, Janine, was brewing coffee, and I waved goodbye, promising to bring back her glass casserole dish later.

My boots crunched softly along the gravel path as I walked home. A minute later, I saw the front of my house.

I stopped mid-step.

My front door was barely hanging on its hinges, twisted like someone had kicked it in. One of the front windows was shattered clean through.

A completely destroyed front door | Source: Midjourney

A completely destroyed front door | Source: Midjourney

There was also burn damage on the siding, which I couldn’t figure out, and my chest tightened.

I picked up my pace, then broke into a run.

Inside was worse.

The cabinet my husband built before he passed was burned, and a chunk was missing from its side. Dishes were smashed all over the kitchen floor.

My hand-embroidered couch cushions were torn, and beer cans, broken glass, and ash littered everything.

Cans and glass shards scattered across a living room floor | Source: Midjourney

Cans and glass shards scattered across a living room floor | Source: Midjourney

I stood frozen, keys still in my hand, wondering how a bunch of 30-somethings could wreck the place like this.

Then I saw the note.

It was sitting casually on the counter, folded in half, with a message scribbled in Stuart’s handwriting.

“We had a bit of a wild party to say goodbye to our youth. You might need to tidy up a little.”

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry at that moment. I just dropped my keys on the floor, got my phone out, and started dialing his number. It went straight to voicemail.

A worried woman using the phone | Source: Midjourney

A worried woman using the phone | Source: Midjourney

I tried calling again, knowing he wouldn’t listen to any messages. Finally, I had to leave him a message.

“Stuart,” I said into the phone, trying to keep my voice even but not managing at all. “You need to call me. Right now. What happened here?”

I called again.

By the tenth time, I was sobbing.

A woman with a heartbroken expression | Source: Midjourney

A woman with a heartbroken expression | Source: Midjourney

“Stuart! You can’t ignore me after what you’ve done! How could you?! This is the house I worked so hard to pay off and raised you in after your father died! If you don’t fix this, I swear I will sue you for every penny! Do you hear me?! I’ll sue!”

After leaving that message, I slumped to the floor, breathing roughly.

My knees felt weak, and my hands were shaking.

I closed my eyes to avoid staring at the place I’d kept up for 20 years, which now looked like one of those apocalypse movies Stuart used to watch.

A woman resting against a wall, breathing heavily with her mouth open | Source: Midjourney

A woman resting against a wall, breathing heavily with her mouth open | Source: Midjourney

I don’t know how long I sat there, surrounded by the mess. But when my breathing normalized, I stood and grabbed a dustpan from under the sink to begin sweeping broken glass, one jagged shard at a time.

Around an hour later, through the shattered window, I spotted Martha walking up the drive with her caretaker. She’d always walked in the mornings, arm linked with Janine, moving slowly but steadily.

Today, she froze.

An elderly woman and nurse with shocked expressions | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman and nurse with shocked expressions | Source: Midjourney

She looked at my house like she was seeing a corpse.

“Martha?” I said, stepping outside and brushing glass from my sweater. My voice cracked. “It’s… It’s bad. I let Stuart throw a party, and he trashed it. It’s a whole mess. I might not be able to come over for afternoon tea.”

Her eyes didn’t blink for a long moment. Then she placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Oh, my dear Nadine,” she said, her voice low with a kind of quiet, rising anger. “You absolutely need to come over later. We have to talk.”

An elderly woman with an upset expression | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman with an upset expression | Source: Midjourney

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what there was to talk about.

With a final nod, she turned and walked back the way she came with Janine.

A few hours later, I walked back along the same path, the long way to Martha’s estate, wiping dust from my pants and trying to look like someone who hadn’t cried all morning.

When I reached her big front door, Janine opened it with a small smile and let me in.

A grand front door | Source: Pexels

A grand front door | Source: Pexels

Martha was seated in her favorite wingback chair with a cup of tea balanced on her saucer. She nodded warmly at me. “Have a seat, Nadine. I’ve asked Stuart to come as well. He’ll be here any moment.”

I wasn’t sure my son would come, but true to her word, I heard the low growl of a car engine outside just a minute later.

I should’ve known. Stuart had always coveted Martha’s wealth and her house. Of course, he came running for her, while my voicemails and calls were ignored.

A man walking up a driveway, smiling | Source: Midjourney

A man walking up a driveway, smiling | Source: Midjourney

My son strutted in, wearing sunglasses and sporting a confident smile. “Hey, Martha,” he said cheerily. “You wanted to see me?”

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to the empty couch.

He dropped onto it with a bounce, looking only at Martha while I stared daggers into his face.

Before I could say anything, my dear neighbor began speaking. “I’ve made a decision,” she started, folding her hands in her lap. “It’s time for me to move into a retirement community. I’ve resisted long enough, and Janine’s been helping me find a good one.”

People at a retirement facility | Source: Pexels

People at a retirement facility | Source: Pexels

Oh, no. I was truly going to miss her.

Stuart sat up straighter. “Oh wow, yeah? That’s a big step.”

She nodded. “It is. I was going to sell the house. But then I thought, no. I’d rather give it to someone I trust.”

My son’s eyebrows shot up. He knew, just as I did, that Martha had no family left.

“I wanted to give my house to you, Stuart.”

An elderly woman sitting in a wingback chair, looking serious | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman sitting in a wingback chair, looking serious | Source: Midjourney

He jumped to his feet. “Are you serious?! Martha, that’s… that’s incredible! Thank you! I mean, wow, this place is amazing.”

Martha raised a hand.

“But,” she continued, and the room went still, “after I saw with my own eyes what you did to your mother’s house and the state she was in this morning… I’ve changed my mind.”

An elderly woman sitting in a wingback chair, looking serious and raising a finger | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman sitting in a wingback chair, looking serious and raising a finger | Source: Midjourney

My son froze.

Martha’s gaze moved to me. She reached out and laid a soft hand over mine but continued speaking to Stuart.

“I’m giving it to her… and the majority of my estate when I pass, so she doesn’t have to worry about money again.”

Stuart’s mouth fell open. “Wait—what?! No! We just had a bit of fun last night,” he sputtered, his voice rising with each word. “We didn’t do anything that couldn’t easily be repaired or cleaned up! C’mon, Martha, you know me. I swear, this is just a misunderstanding.”

A man yelling in a living room | Source: Midjourney

A man yelling in a living room | Source: Midjourney

“You’d better lower your voice in my house, young man,” Martha stated firmly.

He took a step back and breathed deeply before trying to speak again. “Please… I can explain,” he started, but Martha’s hand came up again.

“No, I’ve made my decision,” she said, even more serious now. “And honestly, after what you pulled, I’m glad I never had kids of my own.”

An elderly woman sitting in a wingback chair, raising a hand | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman sitting in a wingback chair, raising a hand | Source: Midjourney

The room went quiet after that statement, which floored me, to be honest.

I had talked to Martha several times about her life. I’d asked if she regretted not building a family to focus on making money. She never outright said she would change anything, but sometimes, her tone was wistful.

I always thought she had some doubts, but now, I knew differently. Her voice was final.

After a minute of awkward silence, my son transformed.

A man with angry eyes in a living room | Source: Midjourney

A man with angry eyes in a living room | Source: Midjourney

“Fine! Keep your stupid money!” he shouted, looking between us with angry, hateful eyes. “I don’t need it! I don’t need either of you!”

Then he stormed out, slamming the heavy front door behind him.

Once again, silence fell. It was different, though. The tension was gone.

But I still stared at my hands, rubbing my fingers to keep from crying, and after a second, I met Martha’s eyes.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered.

A woman staring sadly at someone in a living room | Source: Midjourney

A woman staring sadly at someone in a living room | Source: Midjourney

She smiled gently. “You don’t have to say anything, Nadine. You earned it. You’ve been the most beautiful friend I could’ve had over the decades. No one deserves it more than you.”

I nodded and couldn’t stop myself from crying this time. But I wasn’t sure if they were happy tears or not.

I’d just received the biggest gift of my life, and even though I was so appreciative, my son had just treated me horribly.

I couldn’t be fully happy with that knowledge. I had not raised him to be that way. But there was nothing I could do right then.

So I’d have to settle for enjoying this moment… bittersweet as it was.

A woman staring thoughtfully to the side in a living room | Source: Midjourney

A woman staring thoughtfully to the side in a living room | Source: Midjourney

When the captain’s voice is heard speaking to the poor, heavy woman on the plane, the rich man mocks her. -A

An affluent man becomes displeased with being seated next to a corpulent woman in first class and begins to voice his complaints to the flight attendant.

The instant James Courtney spotted the woman seated beside him on the flight, he knew it was going to be a rough one. She was enormous! With her seated next him, how in the world was he going to travel in comfort?

The woman took a seat, jabbing at James with her elbow as she fastened her seat belt. “Observe it!” She turned to face James as he aggressively yelled at her.

She sobbed, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Please pardon me.”

“Pardon me?” sarcastically questioned James. Or pardon the three thousand doughnuts you consumed to reach that weight?

The woman gave him a startled gasp, and James noticed that she was rather young with a weak but sweet face. He was inspired to scoff, “Lady, you need to book TWO seats when you travel!”

The woman’s eyes welled up with tears, but James was in the mood, especially after noticing how cheap and dated her clothes were and how worn out her shoes were.

“I assume your entire budget goes on nachos and hot dogs, right?” he asked. So you’re not able to afford two seats? The next time you pass the hat, I’m sure everyone on the plane will be quite giving!

The woman turned to face the window, and James saw the tears streaming down her cheeks in the reflection. He said, “Listen.” “I’m sure my friend who owns a clinic down in Mexico would give you a liposuction for a lot less money!”

By the time James felt his discomfort from being pressed up against her soft weight had subsided, the young woman’s shoulders were quivering with sobs. He thus requested a Martini when the bartender arrived with the drinks cart.
In his best James Bond voice, he said, “Shaken, not stirred,” and then, “I don’t know what Moby Dick here will drink.”

The attractive attendant gave him a snide look while pressing her lips together tightly. Next, she spoke to the woman seated beside her. “Madam, what would you like to drink?”

With a nod, the woman dabbed at her eyes. “Please, give me a diet Coke.”

James sneered. “Don’t you think a diet Coke would be a little late in the game?” Though James felt a slight glow upon realizing he’d upset both the flight attendant and the woman, they both chose to ignore him.

While the woman next to him sipped her diet Coke, he reclined and bit on an olive and sipped his Martini. With a shudder, he realized she would eventually need to use the restroom and would be squeezing by him.

Shortly after he had finished his last drink, the flight attendant arrived carrying food. She placed a lovely tray in front of him and another one in front of the passenger next him.

“Are you certain that will suffice?” The flight attendant was asked by James, “Why do you think it would take a village to feed this lady?”

Disregarding him, the flight attendant continued serving the other first-class customers. “She really was impolite, wasn’t that?” James questioned the person seated beside him, saying, “I think I’ll complain about her.”

However, the other traveler disregarded him as well, and James proceeded to enjoy the genuinely superb meal. When the flight attendant returned, he was finishing the last of his wine, and she was beaming.

“Pardon me,” she began. “The captain would love to have you come up to the cockpit. He’s a big fan.”

After being startled, James noticed that the large woman sitting next to him was being spoken to by the flight attendant. She was flushing, nodding, and smiling. This implied that James needed to stand up and give her space.

After guiding the woman off of the aircraft, James resumed his seat. He expected to be forwarding a good deal of venomous emails concerning the first class service and conditions on the company’s flights to the management.

When the captain’s voice came over the speakers, he was mentally crafting some great diatribes. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. One of us is a celebrity! You will recognize the voice if, like me, you are an avid listener of “I Love Opera.”

When a beautiful voice began singing a few bars of a well-known aria in the cabin, the other passengers began to applaud and make joyful comments to one another. “That’s correct,” declared the captain. “We’re flying with the lovely Miss Allison Jones to perform a charity concert for world hunger.”

James winced as the entire aircraft broke into spontaneous applause. The flight attendant then approached. “Listen up, buster,” she replied in a harsh, icy tone. “I’m putting you in economy if you upset that girl again, no matter how many millions you have.”

James noticed the sparkle in the flight attendant’s eye as he opened his mouth to object. “I apologize,” he muttered.

“You don’t have to apologize to me!” said she.

After some time, Allison Jones, the large woman, reappeared, grinning and signing autographs for the other travelers. James shot to his feet to give her room to sit.

He smiled his most endearing smile and said, “Listen.” “I apologize if I offended you a little; I didn’t know who you were.”

James saw that Allison had the most stunning eyes when she turned to face him. It makes no difference who I am. Never, ever treat someone that way! Furthermore, you’re not sorry. If I wasn’t sort of famous, would you even be saying sorry? I mean, I can’t control my weight, but you can alter your mindset. Give up passing judgment on others.

James stopped talking, lowered himself back into his chair, and remained silent until their arrival in Portland.

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