Chapter 3 A Debt to My Mother

After saying that, she took my phone. Before I could react, she opened my payment QR code. "$20 isn't nearly enough. If you're ever in trouble again, come to me first."

The words had barely left her mouth when a notification sounded. "$200 has been deposited into your bank account."

I stared at her in shock and quickly waved my hands. "No, I can't take your money."

But she shook her head, her expression serious. "What are you thinking? Consider it a loan."

I had gone hungry for three days without crying. I had been insulted by Clara without crying.

But when I felt the kindness of someone I had known for only three days, the tears came pouring down.

With my advisor's help, I managed to eat properly for the next few days and successfully completed the training program.

Finding a part-time job went smoothly, too. I handed out flyers outside a shopping mall for $30 an hour.

At that rate, I would be able to pay back the money my advisor had lent me soon.

But on the day I received my first paycheck, my mother called. "Hank, did you secretly get a part-time job?"

I could hardly believe it. Aside from my roommates, I had not told anyone about my job. Then, something occurred to me.

The day before had been a weekend. I had left early that morning, and although I had deliberately tried to keep quiet while getting ready, I still woke Hudson.

He immediately blew up. "Hank, what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you getting up and making all that noise this early? Don't you know I'm still sleeping?"

I knew I was in the wrong, so I patiently apologized. "Sorry. I'll be more careful next time."

But he was not satisfied.

As he got out of bed, he shot me a look. "Your parents sent you to college, and you're out there handing out flyers? What a loser."

That was the first time I experienced Hudson's strange temper firsthand.

Unfortunately, I was in no position to stand up to him. Besides, he was right. I was a loser. All I wanted was enough money to eat, but would he really tell my mother about my part-time job?

As my thoughts spiraled, I heard my mother say, "Now that you can make your own money, I'm going to stop giving you living expenses for the time being."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

But after we hung up, I received a bill from her.

In black and white, it stated that she had raised me for eighteen years and that I owed her $180,000.

"It's the installment repayment plan. Hank, you'll pay me $1,000 a month."

I tried to type a reply, but my fingers trembled uncontrollably. Then, my mother sent another voice message.

"Considering that you're still young and don't have much earning potential, I'll give you a discount. During college, you only need to pay me $700 a month. Once you graduate, though, you'll have to pay back a lot more."

But the more I listened, the more dizzy I became. When I was born, no one told me that I came into this world already in debt.

Or maybe I really did owe her. After all, three years ago, I had indirectly caused my father's accidental death.

It happened during my freshman year of high school, when I was accepted into the city's top high school.

My whole family had been thrilled, especially my father.

However, at the time, he was still waiting to be paid for a construction project. To scrape together the $500 I needed each month for living expenses and the more than $2,000 I needed for books, room, and board, my father took a temporary job at a construction site.

He sounded so happy when he called. He said he would be home with the money in three days, but fate played a cruel trick on me, and on my kind, honest father.

He never made it home.

A workplace accident took his life, leaving him forever behind at that construction site under the blazing sun.

That was why I had accepted my mother's installment-based approach to giving me living expenses.

But now, the bullet fate had fired three years ago had finally struck me right between the eyes.