My 16-Year-Old Son Went to Stay with His Grandmother for the Summer – One Day, I Got a Call from Her

When my 16-year-old son offered to spend the summer taking care of his disabled grandmother, I thought he’d finally turned a corner. But one night, a terrifying call from my mother shattered that hope.

“Please, come save me from him!” my mother’s voice whispered through the phone, barely a breath.

A scared elderly woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney

A scared elderly woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney

Her words were sharp with fear, a tone I’d never heard from her. My stomach knotted. Before I could respond, the line went dead.

I stared at my phone, disbelief mixing with shock. My strong, fiercely independent mother was scared. And I knew exactly who “him” was.

An angry woman | Source: Pexels

An angry woman | Source: Pexels

My son had always been a handful, but lately, he’d crossed new lines. At sixteen, he was testing every boundary he could find. Rebellious, headstrong, a walking storm of attitude and defiance.

I remembered him coming home from school, slinging his backpack down with a certain grin that I didn’t recognize. “I was thinking about going to Grandma’s this summer,” he’d said. “I mean, you’re always saying she could use more company. I could keep an eye on her.”

A smiling teenager | Source: Pexels

A smiling teenager | Source: Pexels

My first reaction was surprise and a little pride. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf, becoming responsible. But looking back now, as I sped down the darkening highway, his words nagged at me in a way they hadn’t before.

I blinked in surprise. “You… want to go stay with Grandma? You usually can’t wait to get out of there.”

A shocked woman | Source: Pexels

A shocked woman | Source: Pexels

“I’ll help take care of her,” he said. “You could even let the caregiver go, Mom. Save some money, you know?”

The more I drove, the more pieces of our recent conversations slipped into place in my mind, forming a picture I didn’t like.

“People change,” he’d shrugged with a strange smile. Then he looked up at me with a half-smile. “I mean, I’m almost a man now, right?”

A smiling teenage boy with a phone | Source: Pexels

A smiling teenage boy with a phone | Source: Pexels

I brushed it off then, thinking maybe he was finally growing up. But now, that smile felt… off. Not warm or genuine, but like he was playing a part.

As I drove, I remembered other details, things I’d dismissed at the time. A week into his stay, I called, wanting to check on my mother directly. He’d answer, cheerful but too fast, like he was steering the call. “Hey, Mom! Grandma’s asleep. She said she’s too tired to talk tonight, but I’ll tell her you called.”

A concerned woman on her phone | Source: Freepik

A concerned woman on her phone | Source: Freepik

Why didn’t I push harder?

My mind raced back to how it all began. It had been just the two of us since his father left when he was two. I’d tried to give him what he needed to stay grounded. But since he hit his teenage years, the small cracks had started widening.

An angry teenage boy | Source: Freepik

An angry teenage boy | Source: Freepik

The only person who seemed to get through to him now and then was my mother. She had a way of disarming him, though even she admitted he was “testing her patience.”

I dialed my mother’s number again, willing her to pick up. My thumb tapped the screen anxiously, but still, nothing.

The sky darkened as the houses became sparse, her rural neighborhood just up ahead. With every mile, my mind replayed his too-smooth excuses, his charming act.

A woman on her phone in her car | Source: Freepik

A woman on her phone in her car | Source: Freepik

As I pulled up to my mother’s house, a chill ran through me. I could hear music blasting from two blocks away. Her lawn, once so tidy, was now overgrown, weeds tangling around the porch steps. The shutters had peeling paint, and the lights were off, as though no one had been home in weeks.

I stepped out of the car, feeling disbelief twisting into a sick anger. Beer bottles and crushed soda cans littered the porch. I could even smell cigarette smoke drifting out through the open window.

A littered porch | Source: Midjourney

A littered porch | Source: Midjourney

My hands shook as I reached for the door, pushing it open.

And there, right in front of me, was chaos.

Strangers filled the living room laughing, drinking, shouting over the music. Half of them looked old enough to be college kids, others barely looked out of high school. My heart twisted, a mixture of fury and heartache flooding through me.

A furious woman | Source: Pexels

A furious woman | Source: Pexels

“Where is he?” I whispered, scanning the crowd, disbelief giving way to a focused rage. I shouldered through people, calling his name. “Excuse me! Move!”

A girl sprawled on the couch glanced up at me, blinking lazily. “Hey, lady, chill out. We’re just having fun,” she slurred, waving a bottle in my direction.

“Where’s my mother?” I snapped, barely able to hold back the edge in my voice.

A shouting woman | Source: Pexels

A shouting woman | Source: Pexels

The girl just shrugged, unconcerned. “Dunno. Haven’t seen any old lady here.”

Ignoring her, I continued through the packed room, shouting my son’s name over the blaring music. I looked from face to face, my heart pounding faster with every step. Every second that passed made the house feel more like a stranger’s, more like a place my mother would never allow, let alone live in.

Teenagers partying | Source: Pexels

Teenagers partying | Source: Pexels

“Mom!” I called, my voice desperate as I reached the end of the hall, near her bedroom door. It was closed, the handle faintly scratched, as though it’d been opened and closed a hundred times in the last hour alone.

I knocked hard, heart racing. “Mom? Are you in there? It’s me!”

A weak, trembling voice replied, barely audible over the noise. “I’m here. Please—just get me out.”

A woman knocking frantically into the closed door | Source: Midjourney

A woman knocking frantically into the closed door | Source: Midjourney

I felt a wave of relief and horror as I fumbled with the handle and threw the door open. There she was, sitting on the bed, her face pale and drawn, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. Her hair was mussed, and I could see dark circles under her eyes.

“Oh, Mom…” I crossed the room in a heartbeat, falling to my knees beside her and wrapping my arms around her.

An elderly woman covering her ears | Source: Freepik

An elderly woman covering her ears | Source: Freepik

Her hand, frail but steady, clutched mine. “He started with just a few friends,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “But when I told him to stop, he got angry. He… he said I was just getting in the way.” Her voice wavered. “He started locking me in here. Said I was… ruining his fun.”

A sickening wave of anger surged through me. I’d been blind, foolish enough to believe my son’s promise to “help out.” I took a shaky breath, stroking her hand. “I’m going to fix this, Mom. I swear.”

An elderly woman in her bedroom | Source: Freepik

An elderly woman in her bedroom | Source: Freepik

She nodded, gripping my hand, her own fingers cold and trembling. “You have to.”

I walked back to the living room, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. And there was my son, leaning against the wall, laughing with a group of older kids.

When he looked up and saw me, his face went pale.

“Mom? What… what are you doing here?”

A shocked teenage boy | Source: Freepik

A shocked teenage boy | Source: Freepik

“What am I doing here?” I echoed, my voice steady with a calm I didn’t feel. “What are you doing here? Look around! Look at what you’ve done to your grandmother’s home!”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but I saw his mask slipping. “It’s just a party. You don’t have to freak out.”

“Get everyone out of here. Now.” My voice was steel, and this time, it cut through the noise. The whole room seemed to freeze. “I’m calling the police if this house isn’t empty in the next two minutes.”

A furious woman | Source: Freepik

A furious woman | Source: Freepik

One by one, the partiers shuffled out, murmuring and stumbling toward the door. The house cleared out, leaving only broken furniture, empty bottles, and my son, who now stood alone in the wreckage he’d made.

When the last guest was gone, I turned to him. “I trusted you. Your grandmother trusted you. And this is how you repay her? This is what you thought ‘helping’ looked like?”

A woman confronting her son | Source: Midjourney

A woman confronting her son | Source: Midjourney

He shrugged, a defensive sneer twisting his face. “She didn’t need the space. You’re always on my case, Mom. I just wanted some freedom!”

“Freedom?” My voice shook with disbelief. “You’re going to learn what responsibility is.” I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of each word. “You’re going to a summer camp with strict rules, and I’m selling your electronics, everything valuable, to pay for the damage. You don’t get a single ‘freedom’ until you earn it.”

An angry woman in her living room | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman in her living room | Source: Midjourney

“What?” His bravado faltered, fear flickering in his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am,” I said, voice colder than I’d ever heard it. “And if you don’t change, you’re out of the house when you turn eighteen. I’m done with excuses.”

The next day, I sent him off to camp. His protests, his anger all faded as the summer passed, and for the first time, he was forced to face the consequences.

A teenage boy in a camp | Source: Pexels

A teenage boy in a camp | Source: Pexels

As I repaired my mother’s house that summer, I felt the pieces of our family begin to mend. Bit by bit, room by room, I cleared the broken glass, patched up the walls, and held on to hope that my son would come home a different person.

After that summer, I saw my son start to change. He grew quieter, steadier, spending evenings studying instead of disappearing with friends.

A boy doing his homework | Source: Pexels

A boy doing his homework | Source: Pexels

Small acts like helping around the house, and apologizing without being prompted became routine. Each day, he seemed more aware, and more respectful, like he was finally becoming the man I’d hoped for.

Two years later, I watched him walk up my mother’s steps again, head bowed. He was about to graduate school with honors and enroll in a nice college. In his hand was a bouquet, his gaze sincere and soft in a way I’d never seen.

A young man with flowers | Source: Freepik

A young man with flowers | Source: Freepik

“I’m sorry, Grandma,” he said, his voice thick with regret. I held my breath, watching as the boy I’d fought to raise offered her a piece of his heart.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

Joyce DeWitt Finally Admits the Truth We All Suspected – You Won’t Believe What She Said

It’s been years since *Three’s Company* was on TV, but the laughs it brought us are still fresh in our minds.

With its memorable characters and hilarious mix-ups, this classic show changed the world of sitcoms forever. Now, Joyce DeWitt shares what truly made *Three’s Company* a show we’ll never forget…

From the funny adventures of three single roommates to the unforgettable acting of John Ritter and Suzanne Somers, *Three’s Company* is still a favorite on American TV. It’s hard to believe that 40 years have passed since the final episode aired on ABC, yet the show’s charm and humor continue to entertain us.

To show just how long it’s been, I recently watched the intro. The scenes at Santa Monica Pier remind me of how much has changed since the show was filmed.

Sadly, both John Ritter and Suzanne Somers have passed away, leaving us far too soon. But Joyce DeWitt, now 75, keeps the spirit of *Three’s Company* alive by sharing her stories and memories of the beloved show.

“The most dear, precious, tender – and utterly unexpected – experiences that have come from working in *Three’s Company* are the many, many adults who have told me that *Three’s Company* was a safe haven they could count on during their teen years – for some, the only safe haven,” Joyce DeWitt told *US Weekly*.

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Playing Janet Wood alongside John Ritter and Suzanne Somers, Joyce DeWitt became a TV star and brought joy to millions of viewers.

She appeared in 171 episodes of *Three’s Company* from 1976 to 1984.

“It was such a gift. I mean, it was iconic. But who would have thought it?” Joyce DeWitt told *The Spec*. “All we wanted to do was make people laugh. When I think about it, the show was really like a modern version of a 16th-century comedy. It was all about crazy fun. We talked about serious issues sometimes, but that was always in the background.”

“John Ritter used to say, ‘We don’t want people to just laugh but to fall over their couch laughing,’” she added. “But in the end, it was about the deep friendship and love the characters had for each other. That’s what made people love them.”

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After *Three’s Company* ended, Joyce DeWitt took a break from the spotlight for over ten years before returning to acting.

No matter what she has done or plans to do in the future, most people will always remember her for that iconic show. And according to DeWitt, there’s a simple reason for this.

“It was a ‘time out’ from the tough, stressful situations young people were dealing with in their lives,” DeWitt explains, adding:

“And, of course, they say the characters did silly, crazy things that made them laugh. But it was the love, trust, and support between the characters that made fans stay with the show for life.”

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In unedited photos from the *Three’s Company* set, the close bond between the cast is clear, especially in the pictures of Joyce DeWitt and Suzanne Somers, who played the much-loved Chrissy Snow.

Both actresses gave memorable performances, portraying young women making their way in a male-dominated world. Their contributions were just as important to the show’s success as John Ritter’s, and in those early days, their smiles in the photos show a sense of friendship and teamwork.

But beneath the laughter, tensions were brewing. While Somers was praised for her role as “the dumbest blonde in America,” her push for equal pay led to growing conflicts. She demanded a 500% salary increase, from $30,000 to $150,000, which put a strain on her relationship with DeWitt. What was once a joyful set became a place of tension and disagreements.

Suzanne Somers always saw *Three’s Company* as a serious business and took her role as an actor very seriously, but she knew this approach bothered her co-stars.

Eventually, Somers was fired but still had to finish the fifth season under strange conditions. She was kept apart from the cast, filming her scenes through odd phone calls while escorted by security. The tension grew, leading to a painful break between Somers and Joyce DeWitt.

For over 30 years, they didn’t speak, a long silence that felt difficult to understand when you looked back at their early friendship on the show.

“They painted me as if I was trying to ruin the show,” Suzanne Somers said in 2020. “So, I never talked to anyone on that show ever again. Ever again.”

Some people thought that Joyce DeWitt’s rivalry played a role in Somers’ departure, but it was really the salary negotiations that caused the rift between them.

Their different situations made things more complicated — Somers was a single mother who needed financial security, while DeWitt was more focused on her acting. This added to the strain on their relationship.

“We had very different approaches to our careers,” Joyce DeWitt said about her relationship with Suzanne Somers after the show. “We had very different needs. I didn’t have a child to support on my own. I didn’t have a business mindset, so I didn’t understand someone who did.”

But in a wonderful turn of events, the two finally reunited in February 2012 on Somers’ talk show, *Breaking Through*. It was clear they had made peace.

The former co-stars shared a heartfelt hug, and their open conversation about the past showed signs of healing.

DeWitt expressed her deep admiration for Somers, saying, “You went up against ruthlessness, and it came down, but what you’ve gone on to do is immeasurable.” This touching moment highlighted the strength of their journey and the power of forgiveness. The two actresses remained friends until Somers’s sad passing in 2023.

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In an interview with *US Weekly*, Joyce DeWitt spoke warmly about her late co-stars, honoring the lasting impact they made. Reflecting on Suzanne Somers, who passed away from breast cancer, DeWitt described her as “absolutely wonderful.”

She also paid tribute to John Ritter, who died in 2003 during heart surgery, calling him “a true gift.”

Looking back at the photos from *Three’s Company*, we are reminded of a different, happier time—one filled with laughter, friendship, and unforgettable memories. These images not only capture the joy the cast brought to TV screens but also highlight the lasting legacy they have left behind.

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