Rent subsidies, car payments, vacation funds, emergency loans that were never repaid, Christmas gifts, birthday presents, anniversary dinners, furniture for your apartment.
Oilia stared at the papers, her face going white.
I never asked for gratitude. I never demanded appreciation. I helped because I thought family was supposed to help each other.
But family also means respect, Oilia. It means not mocking the person who’s been keeping you afloat.
“Mom,” David whispered, staring at the receipts. “I had no idea it was this much.”
“I know you didn’t because you trusted me to tell you if it was too much, and you trusted her to treat me with basic human decency.”
I turned to Ailia.
You want to know what this is about? It’s not about the comment at Christmas. It’s about 15 years of being treated like hired help, of being tolerated instead of appreciated, of watching you spend my money while complaining that I embarrass you.
Tears were running down David’s face now.
Mom, I’m so sorry. I should have seen it. I should have said something.
You’re not responsible for her behavior, David, but you are responsible for allowing it to continue in your presence.
Oilia was shaking now.
Whether from anger or fear, I couldn’t tell.
So, what do you want? You want me to gravel? You want me to pretend I think you’re wonderful?
I want you to move out of my building.
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
What?
You have 30 days to find other accommodations. I’m terminating your lease.
You can’t do that.
I pulled another document from the folder.
Lease violation. Harassment of the property owner. It’s perfectly legal.
David looked stricken.
Mom, please don’t do this. Oilia made a mistake, but—
David, you can find another apartment without her.
The silence that followed was deafening.
David stared at me, then at Oilia, then back at me.
You’re asking me to choose.
I’m not asking anything. I’m telling you that I will no longer subsidize a woman who has nothing but contempt for me. What you do with that information is up to you.
Oilia grabbed David’s arm.
Tell her she can’t do this. Tell her we’ll fight this in court.
David gently removed her hand.
Oilia, maybe you should wait in the car.
David—
Please just give me a minute with my mother.
After she left, David and I sat in silence for a long time.
Finally, he spoke.
What if she changes? What if she apologizes and really means it?
I looked at my son, this man I’d raised and loved and sacrificed for, and I felt my heart breaking all over again.
David, some people change when they face consequences. Others just get better at hiding who they really are. Which one do you think Oilia is?
He didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes told me he already knew.
3 months later, I was repotting my African violets when I heard a familiar key in my lock.
David stepped through the door, carrying a bouquet of daisies and wearing a nervous smile.
Hi, Mom.
Hello, sweetheart.
I set down my gardening gloves and accepted the flowers.