As we were leaving, Vanessa shouted after us. “And David, don’t use my credit card for the hospital parking again. I’m not paying for your mother’s expenses.”
I paused with my hand on the door.
The SUV was registered in both our names, but I had made every payment, covered the insurance, and paid for its maintenance. I had also helped support Vanessa’s boutique through several difficult years, including the time her business had nearly collapsed.
What she seemed to have forgotten was that my mother had helped us, too.
Three years earlier, when Vanessa’s boutique struggled to meet payroll, Mom had quietly given us enough money to cover three months of our mortgage. She had called it a family loan, refused to charge interest, and never once embarrassed Vanessa by bringing it up in front of anyone.
At the hospital, Mom’s specialist examined her condition and adjusted her treatment plan. Thankfully, the results were more reassuring than we had feared, although the doctor stressed that she needed regular monitoring and less emotional stress.
