“Heun’s in a rough spot,” my mom would say whenever I brought it up. “You’ll figure it out, Jess.”
And Alex? Well, he wasn’t shy about rubbing it in. He’d send me texts every now and then, bragging about how his life was so much easier with the house. He’d even throw in a comment here or there about how nice it was not to have to pay rent.
It was like he knew how much it bothered me, and he loved it. He was playing some Twisted game, and I was the punchline.
Things dragged on like that for months. I got a second job, started hustling to cover rent, and tried to keep my head down. But it was hard not to feel like my parents had picked a side.
I’d over over hear them talking about Alex’s bright future and how he was really getting his act together. Meanwhile, they give me these forced pep talks, telling me that I just needed to work harder.
I guess they thought I’d get over it, but I didn’t.
I was tired of being the one they only remembered when they needed something.
One evening, about a year after the whole “no, you can’t stay at Grandpa’s house” incident, I was out grabbing dinner when I got a call from my mom. I didn’t even want to pick it up, but I did.
“Jess, honey, we need to talk,” she said, her voice oddly serious.
I felt a little jolt of anxiety. My parents had never called me this late unless something was up.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to sound calm.
“Well, we’ve been talking, and we have a situation,” she said slowly, dragging out every word. “We’re in a bit of a financial bind, and we could really use your help. It’s important.”
I sat up straighter. This sounded off. They’d never asked me for help before, not like this.
“Okay, what kind of help are we talking about?” I asked, already dreading the answer.
“Your dad and I need to borrow some money,” she said, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. “We’ve had some unexpected expenses come up, and we were hoping you could loan us a couple thousand, just until we can get things sorted.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My mouth went dry. Here I was, struggling to make rent, still getting by on a shoestring budget, and they wanted me to give them money. The same people who had turned me away when I needed them.
I was quiet for a moment, not sure what to say.
“You want me to give you money?” I repeated, feeling the heat rise in my chest. “After everything? After you told me to figure it out when I needed help? Now you want to borrow from me?”
There was an awkward silence on the other end of the line before my mom spoke again.
“Look, Jess, we’re not asking for much, and we’re family. We’ve helped you before, and now it’s your turn to help us.”
The audacity.
She really thought I’d just roll over and help them after everything that happened. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears.
I wanted to tell her no. I want wanted to hang up the phone and let them deal with their own mess, just like they had told me to do when I was struggling.
But there was something inside me that snapped. Maybe it was the anger, or maybe it was just the sheer Injustice of the situation.
“Actually,” I said, my voice calm but sharp, “I think I’ve helped enough already.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, confused.
“I’ve been helping myself for the past year,” I said, feeling a little more confident now. “You made it clear that I wasn’t worth helping. You told me to figure it out, so that’s what I did. I didn’t get a place to crash, I didn’t get a handout, and now you want me to bail you out?”
My mom’s tone shifted from pleading to defensive.
“Jess, this is different. We’re family. You should understand that.”
