Oh, so you need to talk now?” With the bills piling up and reality finally catching up, I waited an hour before replying, “There’s nothing to discuss. You’ve made your decision.”
“Now you’ll have to live with it.” I thought that settled the matter. I was absolutely certain I’d made my position clear, and I didn’t regret it at all.
But then Eric decided to intervene. That same evening, I received a message from him. As soon as I saw his name on the screen, I knew it would be annoying.
I opened it, and it was, indeed, pure arrogance: “Jacob, man, what’s all the fuss about? It’s not the end of the world. Just help them, like always.”
I almost burst out laughing. “Isn’t this the end of the world?” I was absolutely convinced I had no right to be angry. I immediately replied:
“No, I think it’s your responsibility now. After all, you’re the favorite.” Eric:
“Jesus Christ, are you really getting mad about a will? Grow up, buddy. It’s just about money. Yeah.”
Now that the money belonged to him, it suddenly didn’t matter anymore. It was a real irony. I replied:
“Well, it’s just money. It shouldn’t be too hard to spend on the mortgage, right?” Silence. A few minutes later, another text from his mother. This time he was tormented by guilt.
Mother: Jacob. We are your parents.
As a family, we care for each other. We did so much for you when you were little. And now you’re leaving us.
I took a deep breath to keep from throwing the phone against the wall. Abandon them? For years, I’d made sure they were well cared for, while I coddled Eric and encouraged his laziness.
And now that they finally had to face the consequences of their decisions, was I the bad guy? But this time I didn’t believe it. I retorted, “You made it clear I wasn’t part of the family when you disinherited me.”
Eric will take care of you now. I could almost hear Mom’s theatrical gasps in my head, the way she always did when she wanted to pretend to be innocent, even when she was in the wrong. A few minutes later, I got a text from Dad, and it infuriated me…
Father: “We’re not asking for much. Just help us with the mortgage for a few more months while we get things sorted out. Don’t be selfish.”
Selfish? That word filled me with anger. For years I had helped them out of difficult situations, sacrificing money, time, and energy to make their lives easier. I had done everything a good son should do.
And how did they thank me? By leaving me empty-handed. And now that I was finally asserting myself, was I the selfish one? I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath, and wrote: “No, I’m done.”
After that, I simply turned off the phone. They had made their decision. Now they had to accept it.
The silence lasted exactly one day. I knew my parents wouldn’t give up so easily, but I wasn’t ready. The next morning, I woke up to a notification: “Money transfer request.”
I frowned, unlocked my phone, and checked. It was my mother’s. She had actually asked me for money, as if I were at the ATM.
The amount: $5,000. I stared at the screen, half-astonished and half-amused at the audacity. There was no message.
