I paused the video on the sixth night, right when Betty and Michael got home from work. From their chatter and actions, everything seemed normal.
They cooked dinner together, ate, and then Betty started tutoring Michael. She was really into it, and Michael seemed to be paying attention, though who knows how much of his mind was really on the books.
"Keep your grades steady, Michael. You can only move forward, not back, got it?" Betty said gently as she sat on the edge of Michael's bed after he finished his homework.
"Mom, are you happy with my quiz results today?" Michael asked, nodding slightly.
"Yes, I'm pleased, but remember, it's just a quiz. The real test will be the finals..." Betty nodded, offering encouragement.
"Can I get a reward then...?" Michael asked with a cheeky grin, looking innocent.
"What kind of reward do you want?" The atmosphere was quite relaxed today, no wonder, as Betty and Michael's relationship seemed to be progressing daily.
"Well... if I tell you, would you agree...?" Michael suddenly became shy, looking down.
"Spit it out, is it some fancy gadget you're after? A new phone? Laptop?" Betty asked, running her hand through her hair, quite casually. For Betty and me, anything under a grand wasn't a big deal.
"I don't need you to spend money, Mom. The reward I want doesn't cost a dime..." Michael said, shaking his head.
"What is it then...?" Betty frowned, genuinely puzzled by Michael's request.
"I'd like to give you a kiss..." Michael mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, clearly embarrassed. His voice was soft but loud enough for Betty, who was close by, to hear clearly.
"What did you say?" Betty seemed taken aback, her face showing confusion about Michael's intentions.
"If it's not okay, never mind. Don't be mad, Mom. Maybe it's just a cultural difference. Back home, whenever I did something good or excelled in my studies, my mom would kiss me, or I'd kiss her. It's how we showed love. I'm not sure if it's the same here in the States..." Michael looked awkward, probably cursing himself internally for possibly stepping over the line.
"Oh, that's what you meant... I didn't catch on right away. It's the same here in the States, too. "
"Moms kissing their sons and vice versa is totally normal.I'm not mad, just didn't expect such a simple request..." Betty's eyes softened, thinking of Michael's loss of his biological mother. Perhaps she felt she hadn't provided enough maternal love.
"Okay..." Michael murmured, then looked down, still a bit awkward.
"Alright, you can kiss me. It's not really a reward, though. A son kissing his mom is pretty normal, no need to treat it like a reward... Come here..." Betty chuckled lightly at Michael's bashfulness, then smoothed her hair and tilted her face towards Michael, positioning it at about a 45-degree angle to his.
Sitting in front of the computer, I couldn't help but wonder. If Michael just wanted to innocently kiss Betty's cheek, he had plenty of chances over the past few days.
Why didn't he just sneak a kiss in the dark instead of making it such a formal request? Maybe he was really trying to bridge the gap in their relationship.
"What's the matter? Still shy? Okay, I'll close my eyes..." Betty waited, noticing Michael's hesitance and awkwardness. She knew that to fully win Michael's trust, she couldn't miss any opportunity to close the gap between them.
Betty closed her eyes, waiting quietly. Slowly, Michael leaned in. Sitting in front of the computer, I wasn't particularly nervous; after all, a son kissing his mom is pretty normal. But what happened next caught me off guard.
"Ah..." Betty gasped as her head jerked back, her eyes wide open in surprise, her beautiful cheeks flushed with color.
Because Michael hadn't kissed her cheek as expected, but her lips instead. Both Betty and I had assumed he would aim for her cheek, but Michael had gone for a "sneak attack" on Betty's lips.
Sitting quietly at the computer, my hands involuntarily tightened. Betty's kiss was taken by a second man, and under clear circumstances.
"Michael, how could you kiss your mom's..." Although Betty was a bit flustered and shy, she surprisingly wasn't angry, instead lightly scolding him.
"Back home, my mom and I always kissed on the lips. It's our way of showing affection and respect... I've kissed almost all my elders like that..." Michael seemed innocent and nonchalant in his response.
After hearing this, a flash of surprise and then understanding crossed Betty's face. She believed Michael's words. While a son kissing his mom on the lips might seem excessive, it was quite normal in some families. Often, a child's first kiss would have been taken by an elder long ago.
I had previously told Betty that people in Singapore were very open, and that customs in some countries could be quite strange. Moreover, they weren't as conservative as Americans; behaviors that seemed bold to us were commonplace there.
With my prior explanations, Betty easily believed Michael's words.
After all, this wasn't too extreme by American standards. But as someone who understood international customs, I knew Betty had been smoothly tricked by Michael into a kiss, and she wasn't even slightly upset.
"Michael, don't do this again. In America, this isn't allowed. Plus, you're a big boy now; it's not appropriate to kiss your mom like this, you understand?" At least Betty was rational enough to know that Michael was in his adolescence, and if she let him continue, it might lead to inappropriate thoughts, so she had to stop him.
"Oh, I understand, Mom. Sorry, I won't do it again..." Michael agreed, but his expression was filled with disappointment and sadness, as if Betty's words had hurt him.
Indeed, if I were Michael, I wouldn't feel great hearing that either.
Betty seemed to realize her words might have been a bit harsh, a flicker of regret passing through her eyes.
"Michael, you misunderstood what I just said. I'm not saying you can't be close to me, just make sure not to do it in front of your dad. While it's normal in your country, it's generally not accepted in typical American families, and your dad... "
"So, when it's just the two of us, I can let you kiss me as a reward, how about that?" Betty hesitated for a moment, then seeing Michael's sad expression, her heart softened. She knew her words had unintentionally hurt his pride.
So, Betty took a moment to recalibrate her relationship with Michael in her mind, carefully instructing him. It seemed she was trying to adapt to the customs for Michael's sake, also feeling that since Michael was now her son, some intimate gestures were not a big deal.
After all, for a man, other than his wife and lover, the closest female in his life is his mother.
Michael, you've won another round, I thought to myself as I sat in front of the computer. This way, Michael could legitimately take advantage of Betty, was this kid slowly boiling the frog to break down Betty's defenses? It seemed so, and it was probably the safest and most likely successful method.
Thinking back to Betty's earlier words, "And your dad..." she didn't finish her sentence, but I knew what she meant. She was hinting that I was the jealous type, something Betty was well aware of.
"Alright, I'm going to tidy up my bedroom, and then we can rest..." Betty stood up, then ruffled Michael's hair, who was now nearly as tall as she was, and headed towards her bedroom.
Watching Betty's expression, although she agreed to this type of intimate mother-son interaction, she seemed somewhat reluctant, as it completely contradicted her own beliefs. But for the sake of her child, she was willing to accept it to provide him more comfort.
After returning to her bedroom, Betty began changing into her pajamas and tidying up the room. Once Betty left the room, Michael started punching the air, his expression filled with excitement, practically dancing with glee. Watching Michael's triumphant look, I felt an urge to go home and give him a good scolding.
Betty finished changing the sheets and duvet covers in our bedroom, putting on new ones and taking the old ones to wash. As Betty was changing the duvet cover, Michael got up, changed into his pajamas, and slowly walked to the bathroom.
It was then I realized that when I came home, I had retrieved all the memory cards from the cameras except for the one in the bathroom. But on second thought, it wasn't a big deal; what could happen in the bathroom?
All the ambiguous scenes were taking place in Michael's bedroom anyway. Besides, although I was curious about Michael's size, I really didn't want to see what was under there.
In the living room surveillance video, I saw Michael dash into the bathroom. Half a minute passed, and Michael hadn't come out yet; looks like the kid was taking his time.
Just then, Betty finished changing the bedding and walked out of the bedroom with the old linens in her arms, clearly heading for the bathroom where our washing machine was located.
At that moment, Michael was in the bathroom, and Betty, arms full of bed linens and old clothes, was heading towards the bathroom, which was conveniently close to our bedroom. Our bedroom and Michael's were separated only by the bathroom, with the doors adjacent to each other.
I wasn't initially worried because, naturally, Michael would lock the door while using the bathroom, and Betty would surely notice if the light was on.
*Click*... Unexpectedly, Betty, burdened with a heap of bed linens, opened the bathroom door and walked right in. I was stunned, but upon closer inspection, it made sense.
Betty's arms were full, the piled-up linens obstructing her view. Fortunately, the bathroom door was right next to our bedroom door, making it a short trip from one to the other.
Struggling with the heavy load of old clothes and bed linens, Betty managed to press down the door handle and pushed her way into the bathroom. She hadn't noticed the light was on, and in her haste to unload her burdensome "package," she barged right in. And Michael, that kid, hadn't locked the door...
*Click*... Due to some issue with the floor drain a while back, the bathroom had a bit of a stench, so I had installed a "door closer" on the bathroom door, which now closed automatically.
As Betty squeezed into the bathroom with her armful of linens, the door shut behind her. My living room camera couldn't capture what happened inside the bathroom as the door closed, plunging the interior into silence.
I kept slapping my forehead, berating myself for forgetting to retrieve the memory card from the bathroom camera.
Perhaps it was because the living room was too spacious, making it hard to hear, or perhaps there were genuinely no sounds coming from the bathroom.
After Betty entered, an eerie silence fell. Without the bathroom's memory card, all I could do was stare intently at the computer screen, watching the bathroom door...