I opened the first automatic transfer.
Seven hundred eighty dollars every month.
Daniel and Melissa's health-insurance contribution.
Cancel.
The second.
Four hundred dollars toward Ethan and Noah's school expenses.
Cancel.
The third.
Their automobile insurance.
Cancel.
Then the recurring payment connected to the credit card Daniel used for household emergencies.
Cancel.
Daniel stared at me.
“Mom.”
I continued.
The emergency savings account I had allowed him to access?
Access revoked.
The supplemental payment I made toward their townhouse mortgage?
Canceled.
By the time I lowered the phone, Daniel looked as though someone had removed the floor beneath him.
Melissa's face was white.
“What did you just do?”
I put the phone into my purse.
“I stopped supporting you.”
“You can't do that.”
I almost smiled.
“Apparently I can.”
Daniel's voice dropped.
“Mom, the boys' school—”
“Is your responsibility.”
“The insurance—”
“Your responsibility.”
“Our mortgage—”
“Your responsibility.”
Melissa stepped forward.
“You're punishing the children.”
“No.”
I looked at my grandsons.
Ethan was sixteen.
Noah was eleven.
Neither deserved to be dragged into this.
“I will never stop loving my grandchildren.”
Then I looked back at their parents.
“But loving them does not require financing their parents indefinitely.”
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“This is insane.”
“No.”
My voice remained calm.
“You told me something useful tonight.”
“What?”
“That adults should pay their share.”
Nobody at the table moved.
My sister Linda covered her mouth.
