Chapter 4 - MY MOTHER HAD BEEN ASKING OTHER PEOPLE FOR MONEY TOOI called my brother Mark first.
“Has Mom ever asked you for money for my girls?”
He laughed.
Then heard my tone.
“Why?”
“Has she?”
A pause.
“A few times.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“Maybe… eight hundred total?”
“For what?”
“Christmas. School stuff. Mia’s dental thing.”
My stomach tightened.
I had paid Mia’s dental bill myself.
“What dental thing?”
“Mom said you were behind after Nathan died.”
I closed my eyes.
“I wasn’t.”
Mark went quiet.
Then:
“Rachel, I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
There was always an explanation available when people wanted one.
I called Aunt Susan.
She had sent Diane $600 for the girls.
My cousin Lauren had sent $250.
A woman from Diane’s church had given her a $300 grocery card because Diane told her:
“Rachel is stretched thin and too proud to ask.”
I had never been unable to feed my children.
Then something else became clear.
My mother had spent years presenting herself as the person financially supporting us.
At family gatherings, people said things like:
“Thank God those girls have Diane.”
Or:
“You practically raised them.”
I always smiled.
Because she did help.
I thought people were praising her time.
I didn’t realize she was telling them she paid too.
I called Melissa.
My older sister.
Mother of Tyler and Hannah.
“Did Mom ever tell you I couldn’t afford things for the girls?”
Silence.
“Melissa.”
“She worries about you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since Nathan died.”
“Anything before?”
Another pause.
“Sometimes.”
I started laughing.
Not because anything was funny.
“What exactly does she say?”
“That you work too much.”
“I know that part.”
“That you throw money at problems.”
“I know that part too.”
Melissa sighed.
“Rachel, you do travel a lot.”
There it was.
The comparison.
Melissa had reduced her work schedule after her divorce.
Three days a week.
She lived eight minutes from Diane.
Church every Sunday.
Dinner with Mom twice a week.
Diane adored telling people:
“Melissa understands what children really need.”
I had heard it.
I had rolled my eyes.
Then gone back to work.
I never considered that Ella was hearing it too.
“Do your kids wash dishes at Mom’s birthday parties?”
“What?”
“Does Tyler?”
“No.”
“Hannah?”
“They help sometimes.”
“Three hours?”
“Of course not.”
“Does Mom make them miss meals if they don’t finish chores?”
Melissa went quiet.
Then said:
“Ella can be difficult.”
I felt something inside me harden.
“She is eleven.”
“I know.”
“You just defended an adult punishing her because you think she has an attitude.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Then Melissa said:
“Mom thinks Ella is turning into you.”
I stopped.
“What does that mean?”
“She says she argues about everything. Thinks rules don’t apply. Always wants explanations.”
I almost laughed.
Independent.
Questioning.
Unwilling to obey without reason.
My mother wasn’t correcting bad behavior.
May you like
She was correcting me again.
Through my daughter.
Related Stories
