“Oh, so now you two need to talk?” Now that the bills were piling up and reality was finally catching up with them, I waited an hour before replying: “There’s nothing to discuss. You’ve made your decision.”
"You'll have to live with that now." I thought that settled it. I was absolutely certain I had made my position clear, and I didn't regret it one bit.
But then Eric decided to intervene. That same evening I received a text message from him. As soon as I saw his name on the screen, I knew it was going to be annoying.
I opened it, and indeed it was pure arrogance: "Jacob, man, what's all the fuss about? It's not the end of the world. Just help them like always."
I almost laughed. "Isn't this the end of the world?" I was absolutely convinced that I had no right to be angry. I replied immediately:
"No, I think it's your responsibility now. After all, you're the favorite." Eric:
"Jesus Christ, are you really getting upset about a will? Grow up, man. It's just about money. Yeah."
Now that the money belonged to him, it suddenly didn't matter anymore. That was a striking irony. I replied:
"Well, it's just money, it shouldn't be too hard for you to spend it on the mortgage, should it?" Silence. A few minutes later, another message from his mother. This time he was plagued by a guilty conscience.
Mother: Jacob. We are your parents.
We as a family take care of each other. We did so much for you when you were little. And now you're just leaving us.
I took a deep breath to keep from throwing the phone against the wall. Abandon them? For years I had made sure they were well cared for while I had coddled Eric and encouraged his laziness.
And now that they finally had to face the consequences of their own decisions, I was the villain? But this time I didn't believe it. I retorted, "You made it clear that I wasn't part of the family when you disinherited me."
Now Eric's going to take care of you. I could almost hear Mom's theatrical gasps in my head, the way she always did when she wanted to play innocent, even when she was in the wrong. A few minutes later, I got a text from Dad, and it made me furious…
Father: “We’re not asking for much. Just help us with the mortgage for a few more months while we sort things out. Don’t be selfish.”
Selfish? The word filled me with rage. For years I had helped them out of tight spots, sacrificing my money, my time, and my energy to make their lives easier. I had done everything a good son should do.
And how did they thank me? By leaving me empty-handed. And now that I finally stood up for myself, I was the selfish one? I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath, and typed: "No, I'm done."
After that, I simply switched off my phone. They had made their decision. Now they had to accept it.
The silence lasted exactly one day. I knew my parents wouldn't give up so easily, but I wasn't ready for it. The next morning, I woke up to a notification: "Money transfer request."
I frowned, unlocked my phone, and checked. It was from my mother. She had actually asked me for money, as if it were an ATM.
The amount: $5,000. I stared at the screen, half stunned, half amused by the audacity. There was no message.
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