I was running a fever, getting fluids from an IV drip, so I asked my sister to make dinner for my mom. When I got to her house that night, I was giving my mom a sponge bath when she spoke, her voice cold. “You’re so dramatic. If you don't want to take care of me, just say so. You don't have to make up excuses.” I froze. She took my silence as guilt and continued. “You’ve been like this since you were a kid. Always faking something. Always an excuse when things get hard. “Your sister and brother are so much better. They never make me worry.” I silently put the towel down, dumped the water, and walked out of the room. As I closed the door on her stunned face, I decided I was never coming back. 1 I passed my sister, Chloe, in the hallway as I arrived. She was changing her shoes, her face tight with annoyance. “Can’t you get your IV after Mom’s asleep? It’s not a big deal. I have a presentation this afternoon.” She slammed the door behind her before I could say a word. “Hannah! Get in here and get me some water! I need to be cleaned up, I feel disgusting!” My mother’s voice called from the bedroom. I dropped my bag and went to the bathroom to get the water. I could feel her bad mood the second I walked in. She was glaring at me. I was too tired to care. “Ow! You got it in my hair! Are you trying to hurt me?” “Sorry, I’ll be careful.” “Hiss! Can you close the window? The draft is freezing.” I looked at her. It was ninety-five degrees outside. The breeze was like a furnace. But I just got up and closed it. She let the silence sit for a moment before she said it. “You’re so dramatic. If you don't want to take care of me, just say so. You don't have to make up excuses.” I paused. “It’s not an excuse.” I wanted to say that I was exhausted. That I’d been caught in a downpour two days ago and my entire body ached. But I was too tired to even form the words. “You’ve been like this since you were a kid. Always faking. Always an excuse. “Your sister and brother are so much better. They never make me worry.” 2 The washcloth slipped from my hand and fell into the basin with a splash. “What are you doing? Was I wrong?” A few drops hit her arm, and she shrieked. I felt the tears well up and fought them back. My mother had a stroke last March. She’s been paralyzed and bedridden for over a year. In that entire time, I am the only one who has taken care of her. And I’m still not as "good" as my siblings. “Oh, fine, now you’re crying. I was just kidding. “Besides, you were always faking it. We were all supposed to go to the state fair, and suddenly you’re throwing up. We were going to go shopping, and you pretended to be asleep.” The tears finally came. The day of the fair, she had forced me to eat day-old leftovers she didn't want to waste. I told her it smelled sour. She insisted it was fine. “It’s not going to kill you. This is good pot roast, don’t waste it.” She scraped all of it onto my plate. When my brother, Leo, tried to grab some, she smacked his hand. “Don’t eat that junk, sweetie. You can have eggs.” She made two fried eggs for him and two for Chloe. They went to the fair. I spent twelve hours with violent food poisoning, thinking I was going to die. And the shopping day? I’d been up all night with a 103-degree fever. In her memory, I was just lazy. “Are you really mad?” she asked, that familiar, condescending look on her face. I just smiled a little, pulling her nightgown straight. “When are Chloe and Leo taking their turn? We all agreed to four-month rotations.” 3 “For that? You’re going to abandon me over that? How can you be so selfish! Was I wrong? “You suddenly get a 'fever' and can’t come, so your sister has to be inconvenienced. Do you know how busy she is? She’s so busy at the firm she barely has time to eat!” I glanced at the two empty Grubhub containers on the dresser. A two-person order, licked clean. When I was too tired to cook and suggested takeout, she’d yell. “How do you know that food is clean? It’s poison! Is this how you take care of me?” I had to cook. Three meals a day. Always what she wanted. We were all her children. Why was I the only one? I thought about my husband and my daughter, Lily, and the looks on their faces when I left them again this morning. I was done. “I had a career, too. I quit to take care of you. I’ve done it for over a year. They’re your children, too. They need to be responsible.” Her eyes darted away. “Well, your sister and brother gave me money!” I laughed. “They each gave you $1,000. Your first hospital stay was $30,000. I paid for it.” Her face twisted in rage. “Are you asking me to pay you back? You’re throwing that $30,000 in my face? “Hannah, do you know how much I spent raising you? It was a lot more than $30,000! “You are unbelievable! Get out. Get out! I don't have a daughter named Hannah!” “It’s just too hard to be your daughter,” I whispered. She didn't hear me. She asked what I said. I just shook my head, my smile bitter. I picked up the basin, dumped the water in the bathroom, and walked out of the room with my purse. She stared, shocked. I closed the door. I guess she doesn't have a daughter named Hannah anymore. 4 I drove to a mall, ordered a coffee, and texted my husband, Mark. ‘I’ll pick Lily up from school. We’re having dinner at home tonight.’ He replied instantly with a dancing emoji. ‘Thank god. I am so sick of takeout.’ He didn’t ask what happened. He knew. I went grocery shopping, got home, and started dinner. When it was time, I drove to Lily’s school. Right as I parked, Chloe called. “Did you and Mom have a fight?” “Not really.” She sighed. “Then why is she calling me, crying her eyes out?” The school bell rang. Kids spilled out of the doors. I remembered a day, years ago, when it started pouring rain. The schoolyard was full of parents with umbrellas. I ran out, searching, and saw my mom. She had two umbrellas. She handed one to Chloe and one to Leo. The three of them walked off together, leaving me behind. I tried to run after them, but the creek by the school had flooded over the bridge. I slipped and almost got swept away before a stranger pulled me out. When I got home, soaked and shivering, my mother slapped me. “What is wrong with you? I brought you an umbrella! Why are you soaking wet?” My brother piped up. “Nuh-uh, Mom. You only brought two. You forgot Hannah.” She just stared for a second, then said, “Oh.” ...I wasn't listening to Chloe anymore. I hung up and waited for Lily. That night, my family was halfway through dinner when my phone rang again. My mother. I picked it up, and her shriek pierced my ear. “You’re still not here? Are you trying to starve me? “How can you be so petty? I say one little thing and you throw a tantrum! “Hannah, I am your mother! I am allowed to criticize you!” 5 I looked at Mark and Lily. They were both staring at me. I got up and went to the patio. “I took care of you for over a year. It’s Chloe and Leo’s turn. “Mom, I am not your only child. “And you said it yourself: they’re the good ones. I’m sure they’ll be happy to step up.” I hung up and went back to the table. “Are you leaving again, Mommy?” Lily asked, her voice small. “Can you finish dinner first?” My eyes burned. I stroked her hair. “I’m not leaving, sweetie. Mommy’s staying home. I’m going to read you a story tonight.” “Yay!” She was so happy. I was supposed to read her a story, but I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I woke up hours later in my own bed. The house was quiet. My phone said 11:00 PM. I had over a dozen missed calls. Aunts, uncles, cousins. I ignored them and rolled over, but Mark came in. “You should at least shower,” he said gently, pulling me up. I buried my face in his chest. “I’m sorry.” He stroked my hair. “It’s okay. Dinner was amazing, by the way. Your cooking has seriously improved.” I managed a weak laugh. He led me to the bathroom. When I came out, he had my fever medication and a glass of water waiting. “My fever’s gone. I don’t need it.” He just scooped me up. “I think I know if you're better or not. Take it. Or I’m telling Lily to be your medicine-monitor tomorrow.” I grumbled, but I took the pills. As he was drying my hair, I fell asleep again. He carried me to bed. I felt him take my hand, rubbing his thumb over my palm. “You have calluses,” he whispered. I pulled my hand back and wrapped my arms around him. I wasn’t that little girl anymore, desperate for a drop of affection. I just had to admit it. She doesn't love me. I picked up my phone, went to the family group text, and uploaded the spreadsheet of all my mother's medical expenses. I tagged Chloe and Leo. ‘Here are Mom’s medical bills from the past year. Let’s split it three ways. The rounding is in your favor. You each owe me $10,000.’ 6 Mark, watching over my shoulder, let out a small laugh. I turned off my phone and buried my face in his chest. “What? They should pay their share.” He just held me. “Whatever makes you happy.” My nose stung. Happy. This was the happiest I’d been in a year. My phone lit up with notifications from the group text. Not from my siblings, but voice messages from my mother. ‘Why aren't your sister and brother saying anything? They gave me money!’ ‘Hannah, you can’t treat family this way! This is blackmail!’ ‘I knew you were always a cold, heartless child!’ ‘I’m your mother! I’m sick! How dare you ask me for money!’ ‘Are you trying to kill me? Is that what you want?’ Her voice was choked with sobs. My relatives started piping up, telling me to "let it go" and "be the bigger person." I dropped Lily at school, found a park bench, and tagged Chloe and Leo again. ‘How much did you pay? Show me the receipts. I have receipts for every single bandage and grocery run for the last 14 months. Mom has three kids, not one. Or maybe you two could just die? If you die, I promise I'll take care of everything myself.’ My fingers were shaking, but I hit send. It felt good. I bought a popsicle and ate it in the sun. The group text lit up again. This time, it was Leo. ‘Fine. I’ll look at it tonight. But seriously, Hannah, you don’t need this money. Why are you making this so ugly? We’re family. The rich ones should just pay.’ I bit down on the popsicle. ‘The problem is I’m the one who’s rich AND doing all the work. Now it’s your turn. Good luck!’ I added a smiling emoji. My phone rang. My mother. “That thing yesterday… I was wrong, okay? Just stop harassing your brother and sister.” 7 She sounded embarrassed. I crunched on my popsicle. “I’m not harassing them. I just want my money.” “Isn’t it your duty to pay for my medical bills? Hannah, don’t be like this! Your husband makes good money! You should pay more! It’s called 'from each according to his ability.' Your sister has a mortgage. Your brother is still in school!” The popsicle was gone. My mouth was freezing. “I have a mortgage, too. $6,000 a month. And Leo is almost thirty. He’s not 'in school,' he’s 'avoiding work.'” My brother, Leo, had been in and out of community college for eight years. He was now "full-time" studying for the GRE. He hadn't held a job in his life and still got an allowance from my mom. I remembered when I’d just graduated, trying to find a job, and I asked my mom for $500 to cover rent. She'd immediately started crying. “I’m sick, I had to borrow money from your aunt for my co-pays… your cousin is having a baby, that’s another gift… the utilities are past due… I was going to ask you for money…” I ended up giving her the last $200 in my account. I lived on credit cards until my first paycheck. Now, my mother’s voice was sharp and righteous in my ear. “Your sister isn’t greedy like you, living in some huge house! And your brother is ambitious! You’re just jealous of your own siblings!” I laughed. “You’re right. I am. That’s why I’m suing them.”
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