Finding the hidden camera tucked under my bathtub was terrifying, and realizing my son had put it there was even worse. But his tearful explanation made me realize he was on a mission to reawaken a part of me I thought was lost forever.
The jigsaw puzzle on our kitchen table had stayed the same for weeks, and I was getting worried. My son, Drake, and I used to love them, but things were much different now.
A puzzle on a table | Source: Pexels
These days, he would rush straight to his room after school and shut the door firmly behind him. That is… after coming home later than usual.
I stirred the pasta sauce and checked my phone again: 6:45 p.m. Two hours late, just like yesterday. Through the kitchen window, I watched our neighbors walking their dogs and laughing together.
Our house used to buzz with that kind of energy. Now it felt like Drake and I were living in separate worlds, connected only by quick hellos and leftover dinners. Did this happen to all pre-teens?
A woman concerned | Source: Pexels
A few minutes later, the front door creaked open.
“Hey, Mom.” Drake’s voice floated through the hallway, followed by the thud of his backpack hitting the floor.
“Kitchen,” I called out happily. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
He poked his head around the corner. I saw his messy hair covered by a backward baseball cap. Something about his eyes made me feel like my boy was back, even for just a second.
Boy with a backwards baseball cap | Source: Pexels
But they soon darted to the floor when I looked at him. I knew something was going on, but I had no idea how to address it. My boy almost seemed older than his few years.
“Sorry I’m late. Chess club ran long.”
“Chess club?” I raised my eyebrows. “Yesterday it was math tutoring. And Tuesday was yearbook committee.”
“Oh yeah, I do all those now.” He shuffled his feet. “Can I eat in my room? Got tons of homework.”
Math book and notebook | Source: Pexels
I gripped the wooden spoon tighter, accidentally dripping tomato sauce onto the stovetop, and decided enough was enough. “Drake, what’s really going on?” I asked, turning and putting one hand on my hip.
“Nothing! I told you, just busy with school stuff,” he shrugged and moved further into the kitchen. Without meeting my gaze, he grabbed a plate, scooped up some pasta, and disappeared before I could press further.
Pasta dish | Source: Pexels
I sighed and wondered to the heavens for the millionth time if I should intervene. Maybe I wouldn’t get an answer from up above, but I could try to find some of my own.
I checked the hallway, and his door was shut as usual, but he had left his backpack in the living room. It was my chance.
Inside, crumpled between textbooks, I found a piece of paper with an address scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting: “1247 Maple Street. Don’t be late. This is it.”
Backpack on the floor | Source: Unsplash
What was going on? I wondered, horrified.
***
That night, I found myself going through his old baby photos, spread across my bedroom floor like pieces of a life I barely recognized anymore.
There he was, two years old, grinning with spaghetti sauce all over his face. That happy little boy used to tell me everything. Now he barely looked at me.
Toddler covered in spaghetti sauce | Source: Midjourney
The parent-teacher conference from last week played in my head.
“Drake seems… distracted lately,” Mrs. Peterson had said, sliding his failed math test across her desk. “He’s been falling asleep in class. When he’s awake, he’s always scribbling in his notebook, but it’s not notes from the lesson.”
How could he be getting a grade like that with math tutoring? Was it time to pull the plug on all other clubs?
A math test | Source: Pexels
Either way, I knew sleep wouldn’t come, so I decided to take a shower.
The bathroom was my sanctuary, the one place I could relax and belt out old songs without anyone hearing. Tonight’s selection was “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
The steam rose around me as I hit the chorus, and I remembered how I used to dream of being on stage.
A woman washing her hair | Source: Pexels
“Where do we go now?” I sang, letting my voice soar like it used to at the coffee shop open mics when my future hopes were far grander than what reality allowed.
Sadly, those wishes were extinguished the moment, Tom, Drake’s father and my ex, left us for his new family in Seattle.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past again. The present was much more important. I finished cleaning myself up and exited my shower. As I dried my hair, I felt the pull on my ear and heard a clink on my tiled floor.
A woman drying up | Source: Pexels
My earring! I bent down to get it and saw the crystal’s shining light reflecting from just under the bathtub. Except… something else caught my eye.
There, hidden under the edge, was an old nanny cam I used when Drake was a baby. And it was ON. I immediately went pale. But I examined the angle. It would only be recording my feet. I didn’t get it.
Still, my hands shook as I took it and carefully wrapped myself in a towel to march straight to Drake’s room. The sound of his furious typing stopped when I pounded on the door.
A woman holding a small camera | Source: Pexels
“Just a minute!” he called out, and I heard drawers being opened and shut. What in the world?
“Drake, open this door right now!”
Finally, I heard footsteps and the door swung open.
He stood there in his oversized gaming headphones, and his own face turned white as soon as I held up the nanny cam.
A boy with headphones | Source: Pexels
“Drake, what is this? Why was this hidden in the bathroom?!” I asked, as my anger and bravado turned to extreme worry.
When he remained silent, I gulped and asked, “Have you been… recording me in the bathroom?”
His eyes widened at that. His expression was terrified. “Oh no… Mom, you weren’t supposed to find that. IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK. I can explain!”
“Then start explaining.” I pushed past him into his room and looked at his computer. The screen showed some kind of video editing software. Oh, no! What is he doing?
A laptop on a desk | Source: Pexels
But before I could panic more, Drake spoke. “I…” He slumped onto his bed. “You weren’t supposed to find out yet.”
“Find out what? That my son is making videos of…” I couldn’t even say it.
“No! Mom, listen,” he pleaded as tears welled up in his eyes. “Remember when you used to sing at the coffee shop open mics? Before Dad left?”
The question caught me off guard. “What does that have to do with anything?”
A woman looking confused | Source: Pexels
“You were so happy then. Now you only sing in the shower, when you think no one can hear you.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “But you’re still amazing, Mom. I wanted to show you that.”
He reached for his laptop and turned it toward me. His fingers pressed play, and suddenly, the screen showed me… well, a music video.
I saw a sunset over the city and streets filled with people chasing their dreams. But the main part was the soundtrack with my voice, clear and strong. It was playing “My Way.”
A sunset over New York | Source: Pexels
“I met an old man, Mr. Arthur. I’ve been going to his studio after school,” Drake continued. “He’s been teaching me video editing. I wanted to surprise you for your birthday, show you that you shouldn’t give up on your dreams just because…”
“Because your father left?” The words stuck in my throat.
“He owns all these old instruments, and he lets me practice drums while he teaches me about making videos.” Drake’s words tumbled out faster now. “I’ve been doing extra chores for neighbors to pay for studio time. Mr. Arthur says I have a good eye for it.”
A drum set | Source: Pexels
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you worry about everything now.” His voice cracked. “Ever since Dad left, it’s like you stopped believing in good surprises. I thought if I could just finish the video, show you how amazing you still are…”
Tears welled and fell before I could stop them. All this time, I’d been so worried about what he was hiding. Never once did I consider he might be worried about me too.
A woman crying | Source: Pexels
“You could have just talked to me,” I said softly, wrapping my arms around him.
“Would you have listened?” He looked up at me, suddenly seeming older than 11. “You always say you’re fine, but I hear you crying sometimes. And you never sing anymore, except in the shower.”
I pulled him close, feeling his thin shoulders shake. “I’m sorry, baby. I guess we’ve both been keeping too many things inside.”
We stayed in silence for a few minutes before I remembered something. “Oh! Is Mr. Arthur’s studio on 1247 Maple Street?”
A music studio | Source: Midjourney
“Yes!” Drake said, but then frowned. “How did you know?”
“In the interest of honesty…” I began and confessed to rummaging through his backpack. Shockingly, we just laughed at each other.
***
The next day, we visited Mr. Arthur’s studio together. He turned out to be a gentle giant with calloused hands and kind eyes, surrounded by dusty guitars and vintage recording equipment.
Music equipment | Source: Pexels
“Your boy’s got talent,” he told me and showed me more of Drake’s videos. “And so do you.”
And now that the secrets were out, Drake and I finally finished the jigsaw puzzle together. I also sang outside the shower for the first time in years.
What’s more, next week, I’m singing at the coffee shop again. My son will be there, recording every moment. This time, I won’t be afraid of a little camera.
A woman singing a microphone | Source: Pexels
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.
She was married to Burt Reynolds, won three Golden Globe Awards and received two Emmy nominations: It is safe to say that men once admired her and women aspired to be like her
Loni Anderson became a familiar face on American television in the late 1970s when she played the charming receptionist Jennifer Marlowe on the CBS sitcom WKRP in Cincinnati. This role not only made her a star, but also earned her three Golden Globe Awards.
The show, which aired from 1978 to 1982, followed the ups and downs of the staff at a struggling Ohio radio station. Reflecting on her character’s appeal, Loni said: “Women appreciated that I was both sexy and smart. It may sound strange today, but in 1978 there weren’t many women who combined those qualities in comedy”.
Born into an upper-middle-class family in Minnesota, Loni developed a passion for acting at a young age. She also experienced the pressures of early puberty: “I was the first girl in my class to wear a bra. At first it was exciting, but I soon became embarrassed when I realized I was the only one who had to go through this”.
Before her breakthrough role, Loni made her acting debut in the 1966 film Nevada Smith opposite Steve McQueen. She then appeared in various shows such as SWAT, Phyllis and Police Woman. In addition to acting, she also rose to fame as a poster star, most notably through a popular photo that featured her in a bikini. She humorously noted: “I thought my grandchildren would look at these one day and see what I really looked like”.
Her iconic role in WKRP came about after producer Hugh Wilson noticed one of her bikini posters and decided to cast her as Jennifer, a decision that thrust her into the spotlight. “She was the oracle of the place”, Wilson noted, emphasizing her powerful presence.
Loni’s personal life was marked by high-profile relationships, including her marriage to actor Burt Reynolds from 1988 to 1994. Although they seemed like a perfect Hollywood couple, their marriage ended in a highly publicized and difficult divorce. They adopted a son, Quinton, but the separation was fraught with accusations and disputes over child support.
Burt spoke openly about their marital problems, saying: “It wasn’t lollipops and roses”. He also shared private details that made their split even more painful. However, Loni focused on her son’s well-being during the proceedings, stating: “I don’t plan on getting involved in a media war”.
Years later, Loni accused Burt of physical abuse and noted that he often failed to pay child support on time. Despite their difficult history, when Burt passed away in 2018, Loni expressed her respect and gratitude for their life together.
Now 79, Loni continues to exude beauty and vitality and attributes her youthful appearance to a healthy lifestyle. She aims to reshape the stereotype of grandmothers, saying: “I never wanted to play traditional grandmothers”. She maintains an active routine of cardio, weight training and a diet rich in fruits and vegetables, and emphasizes mental wellbeing through gratitude.
In 2008, she married musician Bob Flick, who she believes was always the right partner for her. “It’s amazing how we found each other again”, she said, reflecting on their union.
Loni’s family faced challenges, including her daughter Deidra’s diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, which hit her deeply. “I broke down”, she admitted, but she stayed strong for Deidra and demonstrated her resilience.
With her positive attitude and supportive relationships, Loni Anderson serves as an inspiration and shows that life can be beautiful at any age.
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