My husband and I always envisioned our son, Jason, taking over the family business, so we insisted he major in business marketing at a prestigious university. Paying the hefty college tuition was something we were prepared for, as long as it meant he was gearing up to become the CEO of the company my husband founded.
Jason has always been an exceptional young man. He consistently earned straight A’s and served as the captain of the school’s basketball team. Other parents often told their children, “Be more like Jason.” He has always been our pride and joy.
Moreover, Jason is the biggest animal lover. If a stray cat wandered into our yard, he would be the one sneaking it milk.
He often expressed that he didn’t want to run the business; instead, he wanted to be more like my brother, Tom—a veterinarian and world traveler who never stayed in one place for long.
When it came time for Jason to enroll in college, we convinced him to study marketing. Reluctantly, he agreed.
My husband and I invested heavily in Jason’s tuition and living expenses, trusting his updates about his exams and progress.
One day, nearly two years after he began college, I had business in the town where he studied, so I decided to surprise him.
At the university, when I asked for Jason’s dorm, the woman at the admissions office said there was no Jason Reed studying there. I asked her to check again, but the answer remained the same.
“Madam, are you certain this is the right university?” she asked. I thanked her and left, confused and unsettled by her words.
I called Jason and asked where he was. “Hey, Mom, I’m near campus, let’s meet for coffee,” he said calmly, further confusing me.
When we met, Jason talked about his midterm exams and how he was studying day and night. I knew something was amiss.
Before I left, I slipped my fitness bracelet into his jacket pocket. Later, I tracked the bracelet’s GPS signal to a wooded area far from campus. There, hidden among the trees, was a trailer that looked like it could collapse at any moment.
I saw Jason and called out to him.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” he asked. “No, Jason, what are YOU doing here?”
Just as he was about to explain, my brother Tom stepped out of the trailer with a big grin.
“Hey, sis,” he said.
I was thoroughly confused. “What are you two up to?” I asked. “Jason, are you even enrolled at the university?”
Looking at the ground, Jason admitted, “No.”
“What about the college tuition? We’ve been sending you money for two years.”
Jason confessed that he had been investing all the money, including what was meant for tuition, into a veterinary clinic. “Uncle Tom is going to be the head of the clinic,” he said.
I was so angry that I couldn’t say a word. I got in my car and drove away.
My husband and I decided to stop sending Jason money after he betrayed our trust.
Months passed, and although I wanted to know how Jason was doing, I was too angry to reach out.
Then one day, I decided to check out the clinic online. After some research, I found it. There were photos of the clinic and of Jason posing with families and their pets, all with a genuine smile on his face.
I showed the photos to my husband and said, maybe we were wrong to force Jason into something he didn’t love. Maybe we were wrong not to support his dream of opening a clinic.
We decided to visit him. Jason and Tom were surprised to see us, but we weren’t angry anymore. We were proud.
“Mom, Dad, you’re the ones who helped build this clinic. The college tuition money went into this,” Jason said.
I cried tears of joy. “Oh, Jason, never stop being who you are,” I said, hugging my son tightly.
