Chapter 1 · Time To Settle Accounts

Chapter 1

My son, Philip Lipsey, set up a supplementary card for me and told me to spend whatever I wanted.

I bought a head of garlic for 40 cents.

He called me up right away, totally chewing me out for spending money carelessly.

"Mom, do you even know how hard I work to make money? Are you just going to blow it all like that?" he yelled.

Listening to his rant on the phone, I silently opened my mobile banking app.

Then, I removed the card that automatically paid his 10 thousand dollars mortgage every month.

*****

When the phone rang, I had just dropped the fresh garlic I bought into the kitchen basket.

The screen lit up with "Philip," and I answered with a smile, thinking he was just calling to ask if I'd be home for dinner.

"Mom!" he shouted, voice cracking, tears streaming down his face. "I messed up. Mom, I swear I know I was wrong."

I froze, totally confused by what he meant.

I'd only gone out to buy some groceries, and I used my own retirement account. How was that wasting money?

"Philip, what are you even saying?" I asked.

"What am I saying? Just look at your phone. The bank sent a notification. 40 cents! Can't you be a little more mindful?" he snapped.

His voice was laced with impatience and contempt.

"Mom, I gave you that family card so you could buy something decent, not so you could be shopping at those filthy, chaotic markets!" he snapped.

Philip always played the good son online, but behind closed doors, he couldn't stand the sight of me.

His voice kept coming at me, every word cutting into my heart like a knife.

"Do you even know how hard I work to make money? I'm out drinking with clients every day, drinking myself sick, bleeding from my stomach! And you just blow it all like this?" he yelled.

There was a faint cough from a woman nearby, but I still caught it.

It was Valda, my daughter-in-law.

So she was there, fanning the flames.

I could just picture her, snuggled up to Philip, painting her nails with some expensive polish, silently mouthing insults at me, the hick mother-in-law who wasn't good enough for her fancy life.

My heart grew colder and colder, until it turned to ice.

I spent my whole life pinching pennies. My husband died young, and I raised Philip all by myself, working hard to put him through college.

When he wanted to buy a house, I emptied my savings and even borrowed from my sister to scrape together a down payment of 300 thousand dollars.

He said he needed a fancy car to impress his colleagues, so I didn't even hesitate. I cashed out my retirement savings and bought him a BMW worth over 170 thousand dollars.

When he wanted to marry Valda, he said the wedding couldn't be shabby, so I scraped together every penny I could and gave him 60 thousand dollars for the wedding.

I thought all my sacrifices would mean a peaceful old age for me.

I was wrong all along.

To them, I was not a mother but an ATM they could tap whenever they felt like it, and someone they kept out of sight, never worthy of any real respect.

All my sacrifices were just taken for granted, but my frugality was something they found embarrassing.

"Mom, are you even listening? I'm talking to you!" Philip was still shouting at me.

I didn't cry, not even the slightest bit of anger in me.

I just answered softly, in a tone I barely recognized as my own, "Yeah. I'm listening."

He seemed surprised by how calm I was. After he'd worn himself out yelling, he just threw out, "You better think about what you've done," and slammed the phone down.

I set the phone down, and the room went dead quiet.

The sunlight streamed in through the window, but it couldn't chase away the chill that had settled over me.

I took a deep breath, not a tear in my eyes, not a hint of hysteria.

I just opened my mobile banking app.

The interface was familiar.

Three years ago, when Philip bought that multi-million-dollar riverfront mansion, I set up the automatic payment on this card for the 30th of every month.

The bill spelled it out clearly. "Monthly payment: 10 thousand dollars."

For three years, rain or shine, I never missed a month.

My finger paused over the "Unlink" button for three seconds.

What came to mind wasn't his adorable little face from childhood, or the proud grin on his graduation day.

Instead, it was that cold line he'd just spat at me over the phone. "Just blowing money like that?"

Without a second thought, I tapped the button.

A message popped up on the screen: [Operation successful.]

I turned off my phone and took out the infamous 40-cent garlic, the one that set off all this family drama.

Peeling each clove, I felt strangely calm.

The garlic skins dropped into the trash, making a faint sound as they landed.

Tonight, I'd make myself my favorite: greens with garlic.

Chapter 1

My son, Philip Lipsey, set up a supplementary card for me and told me to spend whatever I wanted.

I bought a head of garlic for 40 cents.

He called me up right away, totally chewing me out for spending money carelessly.

"Mom, do you even know how hard I work to make money? Are you just going to blow it all like that?" he yelled.

Listening to his rant on the phone, I silently opened my mobile banking app.

Then, I removed the card that automatically paid his 10 thousand dollars mortgage every month.

*****

When the phone rang, I had just dropped the fresh garlic I bought into the kitchen basket.

The screen lit up with "Philip," and I answered with a smile, thinking he was just calling to ask if I'd be home for dinner.

"Mom!" he shouted, voice cracking, tears streaming down his face. "I messed up. Mom, I swear I know I was wrong."

I froze, totally confused by what he meant.

I'd only gone out to buy some groceries, and I used my own retirement account. How was that wasting money?

"Philip, what are you even saying?" I asked.

"What am I saying? Just look at your phone. The bank sent a notification. 40 cents! Can't you be a little more mindful?" he snapped.

His voice was laced with impatience and contempt.

"Mom, I gave you that family card so you could buy something decent, not so you could be shopping at those filthy, chaotic markets!" he snapped.

Philip always played the good son online, but behind closed doors, he couldn't stand the sight of me.

His voice kept coming at me, every word cutting into my heart like a knife.

"Do you even know how hard I work to make money? I'm out drinking with clients every day, drinking myself sick, bleeding from my stomach! And you just blow it all like this?" he yelled.

There was a faint cough from a woman nearby, but I still caught it.

It was Valda, my daughter-in-law.

So she was there, fanning the flames.

I could just picture her, snuggled up to Philip, painting her nails with some expensive polish, silently mouthing insults at me, the hick mother-in-law who wasn't good enough for her fancy life.

My heart grew colder and colder, until it turned to ice.

I spent my whole life pinching pennies. My husband died young, and I raised Philip all by myself, working hard to put him through college.

When he wanted to buy a house, I emptied my savings and even borrowed from my sister to scrape together a down payment of 300 thousand dollars.

He said he needed a fancy car to impress his colleagues, so I didn't even hesitate. I cashed out my retirement savings and bought him a BMW worth over 170 thousand dollars.

When he wanted to marry Valda, he said the wedding couldn't be shabby, so I scraped together every penny I could and gave him 60 thousand dollars for the wedding.

I thought all my sacrifices would mean a peaceful old age for me.

I was wrong all along.

To them, I was not a mother but an ATM they could tap whenever they felt like it, and someone they kept out of sight, never worthy of any real respect.

All my sacrifices were just taken for granted, but my frugality was something they found embarrassing.

"Mom, are you even listening? I'm talking to you!" Philip was still shouting at me.

I didn't cry, not even the slightest bit of anger in me.

I just answered softly, in a tone I barely recognized as my own, "Yeah. I'm listening."

He seemed surprised by how calm I was. After he'd worn himself out yelling, he just threw out, "You better think about what you've done," and slammed the phone down.

I set the phone down, and the room went dead quiet.

The sunlight streamed in through the window, but it couldn't chase away the chill that had settled over me.

I took a deep breath, not a tear in my eyes, not a hint of hysteria.

I just opened my mobile banking app.

The interface was familiar.

Three years ago, when Philip bought that multi-million-dollar riverfront mansion, I set up the automatic payment on this card for the 30th of every month.

The bill spelled it out clearly. "Monthly payment: 10 thousand dollars."

For three years, rain or shine, I never missed a month.

My finger paused over the "Unlink" button for three seconds.

What came to mind wasn't his adorable little face from childhood, or the proud grin on his graduation day.

Instead, it was that cold line he'd just spat at me over the phone. "Just blowing money like that?"

Without a second thought, I tapped the button.

A message popped up on the screen: [Operation successful.]

I turned off my phone and took out the infamous 40-cent garlic, the one that set off all this family drama.

Peeling each clove, I felt strangely calm.

The garlic skins dropped into the trash, making a faint sound as they landed.

Tonight, I'd make myself my favorite: greens with garlic.