Chapter 2 · My Mother's Tears After I Stopped Sending Money

Chapter 2

For the long weekend, I booked a seat on Greyhound and headed home.

Eleven hours on the bus, 62 dollars.

Mom had been hounding me for two days, calling constantly before I'd even packed.

"Pick up some boutique pastries from Oakhaven for your brother. Sophia craves those imported macarons," she insisted.

I snagged two boxes—23 dollars each.

By the time I reached the house, it was already 4:00 PM.

There was a white BMW X7 idling in the driveway.

I figured it belonged to one of the neighbors.

When I stepped inside, I found my sister-in-law, Sophia, draped across the couch scrolling through her phone. Her nails caught the light—freshly manicured, obviously.

She barely glanced up. "Back already?"

She didn't even shift her weight to greet me.

I set the macarons down on the coffee table.

She gave the box a skeptical look. "Oh, these? Last time Liam brought some home from that artisan bakery—they were over 70 dollars a box."

Mom stepped out of the kitchen, her apron spotted with grease.

"Avery, you're finally here! Sit, sit. I made your favorite pot roast," she chirped.

I kicked off my shoes and paced through the living room.

They'd replaced the old sofa with a leather sectional.

The TV was a massive upgrade, too—a 75-inch Sony dominating the wall.

A sleek, professional espresso machine sat on the coffee table.

"Mom, when did you get all this new stuff?" I asked.

Mom's eyes flickered toward the hallway for a split second.

"Liam bought it all. He's such a good son," she said.

I stayed silent.

Liam headed downstairs, decked out in brand-new Nike gear with a heavy watch on his wrist.

"Hey, look who's back! Perfect timing—we're all having dinner together tonight," Liam said.

"Is that BMW in the driveway yours?" I asked.

He flashed a smug, self-satisfied grin.

"Yeah, picked it up last month. When you're launching a startup, you've got to look the part for investors," he explained.

"How much did that set you back?" I asked.

"107,000 dollars out the door, but the financing was easy," he replied.

I simply nodded and took a seat.

For dinner, Mom turned the kitchen into a full-blown catering hall.

Pot roast, honey-glazed ham, bacon-wrapped scallops, and fried shrimp—she'd pulled out all the stops.

The table was overflowing with meat, without a single green vegetable in sight.

Sophia loaded her plate while she talked.

"Mom, this beef is a little dry. Next time, have Liam order the wagyu cuts from that organic butcher," she said.

Mom nodded eagerly, "You're right, honey, I'll get the premium stuff next time."

Sophia continued, "Oh, and Mom, Liam's taking me to Sunshine Bay next month. Do you think you could help us out with the hotel deposit?"

Mom beamed and promised she would.

I didn't touch a single thing on the table.

I just sat there, watching the three of them like a stranger.

Mom was doting on Sophia, while Liam kept passing her the best cuts of meat.

Not a single person asked to pass a plate my way.

After the meal, I was the one left to deal with the mess.

Sophia sprawled on the couch, glued to her drama. Liam had his headset on, lost in a game. Mom stood at the counter, peeling peaches just for Sophia.

The dishwasher sat full—no one had bothered to unload it. Greasy plates and pans crowded the sink.

So I rolled up my sleeves and washed them by hand, one by one, until my fingers burned red under the hot water.

As I wiped my hands dry, I noticed a stack of packing slips sitting next to the stove.

Recipient: Liam Rivers.

Item: Dyson 360 Vis Nav.

Amount: $1,199.

Another slip—Ninja Foodi Smart XL Air Fry Oven, $299.

And another—Dyson Supersonic Hair Dryer, $429.

I stared at those delivery slips, water dripping from my fingers onto the linoleum.

I sent 6,500 dollars every single month.

And they went and dropped 1,000 dollars on a freaking vacuum.

The one I use in Oakhaven? I picked it up at a thrift store three years ago for 10 dollars.

On the morning I left, Mom shoved two 50-dollar bills into my hand.

"Don't be too cheap with yourself out there. Make sure you're eating real meals," she said.

I took the cash and shoved it into my pocket.

Once I was back on the bus, I pulled out those bills and stared at them.

Two crumpled fifties.

Compared to the 481,000 dollars I'd sent over the years, those two pieces of paper felt like a slap in the face.

Chapter 2

For the long weekend, I booked a seat on Greyhound and headed home.

Eleven hours on the bus, 62 dollars.

Mom had been hounding me for two days, calling constantly before I'd even packed.

"Pick up some boutique pastries from Oakhaven for your brother. Sophia craves those imported macarons," she insisted.

I snagged two boxes—23 dollars each.

By the time I reached the house, it was already 4:00 PM.

There was a white BMW X7 idling in the driveway.

I figured it belonged to one of the neighbors.

When I stepped inside, I found my sister-in-law, Sophia, draped across the couch scrolling through her phone. Her nails caught the light—freshly manicured, obviously.

She barely glanced up. "Back already?"

She didn't even shift her weight to greet me.

I set the macarons down on the coffee table.

She gave the box a skeptical look. "Oh, these? Last time Liam brought some home from that artisan bakery—they were over 70 dollars a box."

Mom stepped out of the kitchen, her apron spotted with grease.

"Avery, you're finally here! Sit, sit. I made your favorite pot roast," she chirped.

I kicked off my shoes and paced through the living room.

They'd replaced the old sofa with a leather sectional.

The TV was a massive upgrade, too—a 75-inch Sony dominating the wall.

A sleek, professional espresso machine sat on the coffee table.

"Mom, when did you get all this new stuff?" I asked.

Mom's eyes flickered toward the hallway for a split second.

"Liam bought it all. He's such a good son," she said.

I stayed silent.

Liam headed downstairs, decked out in brand-new Nike gear with a heavy watch on his wrist.

"Hey, look who's back! Perfect timing—we're all having dinner together tonight," Liam said.

"Is that BMW in the driveway yours?" I asked.

He flashed a smug, self-satisfied grin.

"Yeah, picked it up last month. When you're launching a startup, you've got to look the part for investors," he explained.

"How much did that set you back?" I asked.

"107,000 dollars out the door, but the financing was easy," he replied.

I simply nodded and took a seat.

For dinner, Mom turned the kitchen into a full-blown catering hall.

Pot roast, honey-glazed ham, bacon-wrapped scallops, and fried shrimp—she'd pulled out all the stops.

The table was overflowing with meat, without a single green vegetable in sight.

Sophia loaded her plate while she talked.

"Mom, this beef is a little dry. Next time, have Liam order the wagyu cuts from that organic butcher," she said.

Mom nodded eagerly, "You're right, honey, I'll get the premium stuff next time."

Sophia continued, "Oh, and Mom, Liam's taking me to Sunshine Bay next month. Do you think you could help us out with the hotel deposit?"

Mom beamed and promised she would.

I didn't touch a single thing on the table.

I just sat there, watching the three of them like a stranger.

Mom was doting on Sophia, while Liam kept passing her the best cuts of meat.

Not a single person asked to pass a plate my way.

After the meal, I was the one left to deal with the mess.

Sophia sprawled on the couch, glued to her drama. Liam had his headset on, lost in a game. Mom stood at the counter, peeling peaches just for Sophia.

The dishwasher sat full—no one had bothered to unload it. Greasy plates and pans crowded the sink.

So I rolled up my sleeves and washed them by hand, one by one, until my fingers burned red under the hot water.

As I wiped my hands dry, I noticed a stack of packing slips sitting next to the stove.

Recipient: Liam Rivers.

Item: Dyson 360 Vis Nav.

Amount: $1,199.

Another slip—Ninja Foodi Smart XL Air Fry Oven, $299.

And another—Dyson Supersonic Hair Dryer, $429.

I stared at those delivery slips, water dripping from my fingers onto the linoleum.

I sent 6,500 dollars every single month.

And they went and dropped 1,000 dollars on a freaking vacuum.

The one I use in Oakhaven? I picked it up at a thrift store three years ago for 10 dollars.

On the morning I left, Mom shoved two 50-dollar bills into my hand.

"Don't be too cheap with yourself out there. Make sure you're eating real meals," she said.

I took the cash and shoved it into my pocket.

Once I was back on the bus, I pulled out those bills and stared at them.

Two crumpled fifties.

Compared to the 481,000 dollars I'd sent over the years, those two pieces of paper felt like a slap in the face.