He parked on the street.
A minute later, the front door opened.
“Why did you change the garage code?”
He dropped his bag in the hallway.
I sat in my reading chair with coffee.
“Because I wanted to park my car inside.”
Sarah came behind him, furious.
“You ruined our entire weekend.”
“I heard.”
“We had to use our emergency card to pay for the hotel.”
“That is what emergency cards are for.”
“And the insurance?”
“You’ll need to arrange your own policies.”
Mark stared at me.
“What is happening to you?”
I set my mug down.
“Nothing.”
“This is not normal.”
“No. It isn’t.”
I opened the drawer beside my chair and removed the spreadsheet.
Three years.
Every recurring payment.
Every subsidy.
Every bill I had quietly absorbed.
I handed it to him.
He looked at the first page.
Then the second.
His face changed when he reached the total.
“It’s just money, Mom.”
“No.”
“We’re family.”
“That isn’t the problem.”
Sarah crossed her arms.
“Then what is?”
I looked at her.
“The restaurant video.”
All color left her face.
Mark stopped breathing for a second.
“What video?”
“The one Sarah sent Thursday night.”
Neither spoke.
“The one where you raised your glass and called me a pathetic failure.”
Mark’s mouth opened.
“Mom, I was joking.”
“The one where Sarah said at least my credit card was useful.”
Sarah looked toward the stairs.
“It was taken out of context.”
“No.”
“You weren’t supposed to see it.”
“That does not improve it.”
Mark stepped closer.
“Mom, come on.”
I looked at my son.
“When you were twelve, your father sat with you all night after you broke your arm. When you were twenty-three, your transmission failed and I paid for the repair. When Emma was born, I rearranged my entire schedule so you and Sarah could work.”
His eyes dropped.
“I have loved you during every version of your life. Poor. Successful. Frightened. Arrogant. Lost. I never once believed helping you made you less worthy of respect.”
“Mom—”
“But apparently receiving help made you believe I was.”
