Silence.
“Eight months,” I answered for her. “Eight months since you last visited us. And you’ve been to Phoenix three times this year.”
“Danny’s life is just easier! His house is bigger, he has more space for us, he can afford to—”
“To what? Entertain you? Make you feel important? Give you good stories to tell your friends?”
“That’s not fair!”
“Dad said, and I quote, ‘We don’t count your family the same way.’ He said Danny’s family is easier to love. He said visiting us is depressing because we’re always stressed about money—money we’re stressed about because we send you $550 every single week!”
I heard her breath catch. “He didn’t mean it like that.”
“How did he mean it then? Explain it to me, Mom. Explain how those words could mean anything other than exactly what they sounded like.”
“You’re twisting things—”
“I’m repeating his exact words.”
“We raised you, Sarah! We fed you, clothed you, put a roof over your head! You OWE us!”
And there it was. The truth that had been lurking beneath every guilt trip, every request for money, every reminder of their sacrifices. I owed them. My entire existence was a debt to be repaid.
“That’s called being a parent, Mom. That’s the bare minimum of what you’re supposed to do when you decide to have a child. I don’t owe you for not being neglected.”
“How dare you! After everything we sacrificed—”
“What did you sacrifice today?” I interrupted, my voice rising now. “What did you sacrifice when you chose Phoenix over Portland? When you chose expensive steaks over your granddaughter’s birthday cake? When you chose Danny’s dinner party over Lily’s heart?”
“Danny is our son too!”
“And I’m your daughter! Or have you forgotten that because I’m disappointed? The one who got pregnant too young, married too fast, lives in a too-small apartment with a not-impressive-enough life?”
“That’s not—” Mom’s voice cracked. “We love you.”
“Do you? Do you really? Because love isn’t supposed to be conditional. Love isn’t supposed to be something I have to earn by giving you money or being successful enough to brag about. Love is supposed to be freely given, especially to your own child.”
