They Love My Money, Not Me

Not a single person had replied.

A moment later, Mom texted me.

"Forgot to mention, your dad's been craving some banana bread."

I knew what she was doing. She was testing me, checking to see if I'd noticed that message.

My fingers flew across the screen.

"Why, Mom? I'm your son too. Your own flesh and blood. Why does getting married suddenly make me an outsider? Don't you love me anymore?"

But in the end, I deleted every word. All I sent was, "I've got something tomorrow. I'm not coming."

The moment the message went through, Mom called again. The second I picked up, she launched into me.

"What is wrong with you? Saturday dinner is a family tradition. How can you just not show up?

"I don't care what you have going on. You're coming to dinner!"

I couldn't hold it in anymore. I shouted back at her. "Mom, I saw the message you sent."

The other end of the line went quiet, but only for a second before she recovered.

"That was an accident. I sent it to the wrong person. And besides, we're all family. Is it really worth making a fuss over?"

She said it so matter-of-factly that it made me look like the petty one.

I let out a bitter laugh. "Have any of you ever actually treated me like family?

"You call it a family dinner, but every single time, I'm the one running around doing everything while the rest of you just sit there and wait to eat.

"I go out of my way to buy everything everyone likes. Has a single one of you ever bothered to ask what I like?"

I thought that might give her pause and make her reflect, even a little. Instead, she doubled down.

"Your father and I raised you. Is it really so much to ask that you show some gratitude? And let's be honest, you moved away. You chose her over us. So don't act like coming home and doing a little extra is some kind of burden."

The way things turned out after the wedding was never what I wanted. I barely saw my wife, and every time I went home, my parents made me feel like I owed them for leaving.

I only went along with it because I knew how hard things were for them, and I felt like I had no other choice.

But everything I'd done, all the effort and sacrifice, was simply what was expected in Mom's eyes. It never once occurred to her that I had feelings too, that I could be hurt.

Before I could say another word, she kept going. "Anyway, that's that. I have to go. Be here early tomorrow."

Then she hung up.

I went back to my desk and booked a train ticket to Crestwood for that evening. My coworker, Connor Briggs, leaned over from the next cubicle.

"Don't you have that family dinner on Saturday? You're skipping it?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm not going."

A flicker of doubt crossed his face. "Your mom's okay with that?"

I managed a thin, humorless smile but didn't answer.

He picked up on my mood and quickly changed the subject. "Good for you, honestly. You and your wife barely see each other as it is. You should be spending your weekends with her."

The moment I got off work, I grabbed my things and headed for the train station. My wife, Brooke Whitfield, brightened up when she saw me.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I missed you," I said quietly.