The Hockey Star Regret
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I said. “I don’t want your money. I don’t need it. I’ve still got the trust fund from Grandma and Grandpa, the one you can’t touch, remember? That’s more than enough to finish school, to live. So keep your money. Keep your control. I’m done.”
My father’s face turned red, his voice trembling with rage. “You ungrateful...”
“Ungrateful?” I interrupted, stepping closer. “You want to talk about ungrateful? You raised two sons and broke both of them, one with pressure, the other with neglect. You don’t get to talk about gratitude.”