Chapter 8 - The Truth Comes Clean
Mom stood in the hallway, clutching her throat, the tears finally spilling over her mascara. "He hates me," she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. "My own grandson hates me."
"He doesn't hate you, Mom," I said, leaning against the banister with my arms crossed. "Hate takes energy. He’s just realizing that you aren't who he thought you were. And that’s a lesson every child eventually learns when their parents fail them."
She looked at me, her eyes red and swollen. "Meredith, please. You have to turn the transfer back on. Just for this month. Just until Walter and I can figure out what to do. The bank gave us until Friday at noon to cure the default, or they’re initiating the foreclosure auction process. We will lose everything. Thirty-five years in that house, Meredith. Everything you and Whitney grew up with."
"Where was Whitney when you asked her for the two thousand dollars?" I asked coldly.
Mom looked down at the hardwood floor, unable to meet my gaze. "She said... she said they couldn't afford it right now."
"She spent eight hundred dollars at Harrison & Cole on Saturday night, Mom," I reminded her mercilessly. "She posted photos of her kids drinking artisanal mocktails while my son was sitting on the couch crying into his pizza. Whitney can afford it. She just doesn't value you enough to spend her own money on you. She only values you when you're an audience for her perfect life."
Mom flinched as if I had struck her across the cheek. Because deep down, she knew every single word was the absolute, unvarnished truth. For twenty years, she had put Whitney on a pedestal, pouring praise, attention, and adoration into the daughter who looked good on paper, while treating me like the dependable workhorse who would always clean up the mess in the dark.
May you like
"I made a terrible mistake," Mom wept, dropping onto the bottom step of our staircase, her head hanging between her knees. "I was so worried about people finding out Walter lost his job. I was so embarrassed that we were failing while all our friends were retiring to Florida. I thought if we kept up appearances, if we went to that dinner with Whitney, people would think we were still doing well. I took you for granted, Meredith. I took Owen for granted. I thought you would always be there."
"You didn't take me for granted, Mom," I corrected her, my voice dropping to a whisper that shook with ten years of suppressed pain. "You used me. You used my love, you used my husband's hard work, and you used my desire to make you proud. And the second you thought you had a shinier table to sit at, you kicked my son under the bus."
