My Mom Is Weirdly Close to My Ex-Boyfriend

My mom often caught me sniffling in my room after my boyfriend, Chase, and I got into an argument on the phone. She’d knock on my door, climb in my bed, and hold me. One day, she looked me in my tear-filled eyes and said, “He’s not the one for you.”

She said this because she hated to see me sad all the time, but there were tons of good reasons to break up with him.

Chase threw utensils in my direction, slammed doors, yelled in my face, and had his hands a little too aggressively close to my body at times. I was a teenage victim of purity culture who thought I had to continue dating him since he’d seen me naked. I thought his behavior had to be accepted. Within the first three months of our relationship, Chase had coerced me into having sex with him, and I was convinced I was going to hell if I did not marry him. He talked about our wedding regularly. As I came to my senses, I started to realize that dancing with the devil in hell sounded more appealing than standing at an altar with him on Earth. 

It took me two years to listen to my mom and break up with Chase. He told me if I ever broke up with him for good, he would have no more reason to live. He and I had broken up twice during the relationship, but the last and third time was permanent. I felt secure in my decision because I was beginning to meet other people in college who treated me with respect and kindness. I felt free. I felt happy. I felt like myself. 

However, just as I was moving on, my mom seemed to change her opinion of Chase. 

“That’s not fair," she said. "He’s like the son I never had.”

I rarely visited my parents after Chase and I broke up because he lived five minutes away from my home. I didn’t want to risk seeing him. To my surprise, while home for Christmas break, I found out Chase had been making trips to visit my parents. He told them how much he regretted treating me the way he did. 

Chase was persistent. He began going to my house twice a week while I was away at school to cry to my mom. My mom has a nurturing soul, so she consoled him. I’m not quite sure what their relationship looked like when Chase started begging my mom to talk some sense into me and give him another chance, but I have to tell myself it began innocently with good intentions– at least on her end. 

Chase probably seemed to have good intentions from her perspective, too. He could be kind and respectful when he wanted to be. This act of his nearly convinced me to be his wife. Although he didn’t succeed in tying the knot with me, he’s laced knots around my mom’s brain, convincing her that he is what’s best for the both of us. He’s still part of my life nearly three years after our breakup because he and my mom talk every day.

I began to notice some strange details when I finally decided to visit my parents. I walked in on my mom unpacking clothes Chase had gifted me while we were together, even though they no longer fit me. I noticed that a Polaroid of Chase and me on vacation moved from my desk drawer to the pantry cabinet in our kitchen. I noticed the shower in our guest bath had products in it, even though there were rarely guests in our house. I recognized these products: Every Man Jack body wash and Dove shampoo. My dad strictly used Dial. Chase’s belongings remained in that shower, and there weren’t pink bacteria stains underneath the bottles. 

One day at breakfast, I blurted out to my mom, “Can you please stop talking to Chase?”

She jerked her head in a way that seemed like she wanted to deny it, but instead she said, “He comes to the door, and I can’t just turn him away.”

“Why not?” I asked. “You don’t owe him anything.”

“I know, but you should see him. He’s pitiful. He cries in my arms and you know he doesn’t really have a mom. I can’t just cut him off cold turkey. You should really give him another chance. He loves you, and he’s different this time.” 

I remember singing that same song when I was still in a relationship with him, in an attempt to convince her not to hate him. Now she’s the one trying to convince me. For months after that confrontation, I begged her to stop everything with him. 

“I just wish you would be on my side and trust me when I tell you that he has manipulated you into believing he has good intentions,” I said.

“I’m not taking sides,” she told me. “My relationship with him has nothing to do with you.” 

“But I’m your child,” I said. “It's either me or him.”

“That’s not fair. He’s… he’s like the son I never had.” 

She has an actual son, my brother. He was diagnosed with autism at a very young age, and my mom thought that was God’s punishment for her having a divorce prior to her pregnancy. I have to believe she made that comment about Chase being the son she never had in the heat of the moment. I have to believe she didn’t actually mean that. 

I’m not entirely sure if my mom and Chase still communicate as regularly as they once did, but I know that body wash and shampoo still sit in the shower. I know that Polaroid is still in the peanut butter cabinet. I know my mom has Chase’s text notifications silenced in her phone. I also know that they Snapchat because she doesn’t know how to turn off in-app notifications. I know that Chase has my mom’s contact saved as “Mom❤️” because one of his new girlfriends reached out to me asking why that was the case. 

My mom and I haven’t talked about their relationship in quite some time, and I’m sure she thinks I’ve decided to let it go and move on. I haven’t done either of those things because I don’t know how. All I’ve done is avoid the topic by choosing not to bring it up to her. Every time I’m with her and hear her phone ring, I think it’s him. Every time I leave my house, I think he’s on his way there. Their relationship makes me wish mine and Chase’s never happened because I know he’s saying the same sweet nothings to her like he said to me. She refuses to stop, and there’s nothing I can do about it except cry. I always cried to her about everything that hurt me, but now I can’t because he is attached to her shoulder, and she is attached to everything that hurts me.