Mom Picked Her Golden Child

The second I heard her talk, I knew—Mom was back too.

She hated how the last round played out. Blamed me for not handing her some glamorous life, so this time she practically leapt at Katerina, who looked shinier on paper.

But she forgot something. It wasn't that she didn't pick Katerina last time—Katerina didn't want her.

Mom had been a housewife forever, and no one saved squat for her retirement. When I suggested we split the cost, Katerina shot it down.

"She's got two daughters," she'd said. "How could she possibly end up treated badly?"

Easy to say when you're married to some rich foreign guy. Money never touched her nerves.

But when it came down to it? Katerina wanted Dad. A quiet, harmless teacher beat our loud, scene-making mom any day.

Sure enough, Katerina hesitated for a split second, then slipped on that fake sweet voice.

"Mom, I WANT to take care of you, but those long flights? Way too hard on your body. Better to stay in Bellavaro with Anya! We'll totally visit when we can!"

Then she threw me under the bus. "Right, Anya? Mom can even help with the kid."

I said nothing. Just smiled on the inside.

Last time, she pulled the same stunt—promised to help, then spent her nights bingeing TV and giggling with Katerina on video calls. Slept all day. Zero childcare.

Pavel's mom was the one who actually stepped up.

One rainy day, she slipped and broke her leg. Pavel and I were both out of town for work. I begged Mom to pick up my daughter just once. Too far, too tiring, she said.

My kid sat at school until nightfall. A security guard ended up walking her home.

I kept my mouth shut. Mom glared.

"I'm in my fifties. I've earned some peace. She can handle her own kid—stop dumping it on others. It's settled. I'm going to Amiraka next month. Let your dad stay with Anya!"

***

Dad didn't care. He didn't even want to leave. New country, strangers, nothing familiar? Hard pass.

Last time, he wanted to fly home the minute he landed, but Katerina wouldn't let him.

She and Chris had three kids and handed them off like party favors. Dad basically became their live-in babysitter.

Good thing he was a retired teacher—herding kids was his default. But even he started wearing down fast.

Meanwhile, Mom acted like he was on vacation. Constant jabs about how he didn't appreciate anything.

"If I were in Amiraka with Katerina and Chris," she'd brag, "I'd be living like royalty."

She made sure to call during dinner, voice sugarcoated and loud, so I could hear every snide remark.

Always the same garbage—how I married a nobody while Katerina scored a "real catch."

When I didn't bite, Katerina finally dropped the act.

"Mom, you can come with us to Amiraka, but it's expensive. You don't have a pension, so... why not sell the apartments and come with us?"

We had two old apartments. Last time, they went for just over $500K.

Mom handed the money all to Dad for the big move, claiming she felt bad about how "expensive" life was for poor Katerina in Amiraka.

This time, I didn't wait.

"Fine, sell one. But the other stays. Dad still needs a place to live."

No way was I living under the same roof with my parents again. Not after what happened last time.

Before Katerina could open her mouth, Mom butted in.

"Why? Your dad should live with you. Isn't that what 'taking care' means?"

I swallowed the rage.

"Our place is tiny. He wouldn't be comfortable."

Mom scoffed. "Well, that's what you get for marrying a poor man. If you'd married like your sister, you'd be in a mansion by now!"

Felt like a slap.

Funny how fast your own parents look down on you once the money dries up.

Everything changed after we married different kinds of men. Katerina could drop cash on fancy imported fruit like it was no big deal. I bought some once for my kid, and Mom acted like I lit money on fire.

Katerina smiled. "Don't act so generous, Anya. Dad's got a pension—you're not paying for him. These two apartments should be my compensation anyway."