«Honey, use mom’s card. She’s got like $130,000 saved up.» I heard my son Edward’s voice from the living room, and it felt like the floor was opening up under my feet. I was in the kitchen preparing lunch. My hands were covered in flour when those words cut through the wall and hit me in the chest like a closed fist. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard.
My own son, the child I carried for nine months, the one I nursed and raised alone after his father left us, was handing my bank card over to Grace, his wife, as if it were his. As if that $130,000, which cost me 40 years of work, of ruined knees from scrubbing other people’s floors, of tired eyes from sewing until dawn, belonged to him. I dropped the rolling pin on the counter and stood there paralyzed, my heart beating so hard I could hear it in my ears.
«Are you sure, sweetie? She won’t get mad?» Grace asked in that sweet voice she used when she wanted something, a voice I knew all too well after 15 years of watching her manipulate my son.
«My mom won’t say a thing. She lives here for free, eats our food, uses our utilities. It’s the least she can do to help us out a little. Besides, she’s old now. What does she need all that money saved for? We have expenses.»
«We have a life ahead of us,» Edward replied, and every word was like a knife twisting in my back. I stood there, staring at the dough on the counter, feeling the tears welling up, but I held them back. I wasn’t going to cry.
Not anymore. I had cried enough in this house over the last 20 years, ever since Edward convinced me to sell my little house to help him with the down payment on this property that he now claimed was his alone. «Free,» he had said.
I lived for free in the house I helped buy. I ate for free from the food I cooked every day. I used for free the utilities I paid for with my $500 monthly pension, which I handed over in full every month, not keeping a single cent for myself.
I heard Grace’s footsteps approaching the door, the jingle of her purse, the car keys. She was heading to the mall with my card in her hand, with the pin Edward had given her, with access to every dollar I had ever sweat for.
«I’m off to the mall, Josephine. Need anything?» she yelled from the living room, with that fake kindness she used in front of Edward, as if we were friends, as if she hadn’t taken my son from me, piece by piece, all these years.
«No, dear, thank you,» I replied, with the firmest voice I could manage, without turning around, without letting her see my face. I heard the door close, the car engine start, the sound fading down the street.
I sat down in a kitchen chair and looked at my hands. Sixty-eight-year-old hands, full of wrinkles and spots, hands that had worked without rest since I was fourteen. I remembered every single one of those $130,000.
Every bill had a story, a sacrifice, a surrender. The first $10,000 I saved working as a seamstress in a workshop where I started at six in the morning and left at eight at night, six days a week. Twenty dollars a day that I kept in an envelope under my mattress.
It took me three years to save that first $10,000, eating rice and beans almost every day, without buying even a new pair of shoes. Another $20,000 came from the extra cleaning jobs I did on Sundays, the only day I was supposed to rest. Huge houses of rich families who paid me $50 for eight hours of work.
I cleaned three houses every Sunday. $150 that I saved completely without spending a dime. The rest came from years and years of having no life of my own, of not buying clothes, not going to the salon, not eating out at restaurants, of saying no to everything that cost money.
While other women my age went on trips with their friends or treated themselves, I was counting pennies and putting them in the bank account I opened 30 years ago. And for what? To have my own place someday, a small, modest apartment where no one could tell me I was living for free, where I could close my door and be the master of my own space, my peace, my life.
That was all I wanted. It wasn’t much to ask for after 68 years in this world. But now my son, my own son, had just handed over my card as if it were his, as if I didn’t exist, as if my life and my effort were worth nothing.
Edward walked into the kitchen with his phone in his hand, not even looking at me. He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the refrigerator. «Is lunch almost ready, Mom? I have a meeting at three, and I need to eat quick,» he said in that tone he used lately, a tone that wasn’t a question but a command.
«Almost,» I replied, getting up to continue with the dough, though my legs felt shaky.
«Hey, Mom, Grace went to the mall. We needed a few things for the house,» he said without looking up from his phone, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
I didn’t answer. I kept kneading, pressing the dough harder than necessary, feeling the anger and pain mixing in my chest.
«Did you hear what I said?» Edward asked, now looking at me.
«Yes, I heard,» I said without turning.
«And any problem?» There was irritation in his voice now, as if I were the one doing something wrong.
I turned and looked him in the eyes, those eyes that used to look at me with love, with respect, with admiration. Now all I saw was impatience and annoyance. «Should I have a problem?» I asked, staying calm, even though inside I was a volcano about to erupt.
«No, of course not. It’s just some things for the house. Besides, Mom, you live here. It’s normal for you to help with expenses from time to time,» he said, and went back to his phone as if the conversation was over.
«Help with expenses.» He said that as if I didn’t give him my entire pension every month, as if I didn’t cook, clean, wash, and iron for the whole family without being paid a dollar, as if I hadn’t dedicated the last twenty years of my life to serving them.
«I understand,» was all I said, and I returned to my dough.
Edward left the kitchen, and I stood there looking out the window at the small garden that I tended myself. The roses I planted, the grass I watered every morning, the tomatoes growing in the corner—all in a house that my son said was his alone. In that moment, I made a decision.
I was not going to stand by and watch them steal the only thing I had left. I was not going to let Grace spend in one day what took me forty years to save. And I was definitely not going to continue living in a house where I was treated like a maid and not a mother.
I finished preparing lunch, wiped my hands on my apron, and went straight to my room. I locked the door, took out my old phone, and dialed the bank’s number, which I knew by heart. I waited through the rings with a racing heart.
«National Bank. Good morning. This is Linda. How can I help you?» a friendly voice answered.
«Good morning. I need to block my debit card immediately,» I said in a firm voice.
«Can you confirm your full name and account number, please?» the operator asked professionally.
I gave her all my information, answered the security questions, confirmed my date of birth, and my address. Every second that passed, I felt my heart beat faster, as if I were committing a crime, when in reality I was just protecting what was mine.
«I understand, Mrs. Josephine. Was there a problem with the card? Did you lose it, or was it stolen?» the operator asked.
«Let’s just say someone has it without my authorization,» I replied, choosing my words carefully.
«Perfect. I am now blocking the card immediately. From this moment on, no one will be able to make any transactions with it. Would you like us to send a new card to your home address?» Linda from the bank explained.
«Yes, please, but don’t send it to this address. I’ll pick it up in person at the branch next week,» I said, thinking fast. I didn’t want Edward or Grace to intercept my new card.
«No problem, Mrs. Josephine. Your card was blocked at 11:25 in the morning. Is there anything else I can help you with?» the operator asked.
«No, that’s everything. Thank you very much,» I said, and hung up the phone with trembling hands.
I sat on the edge of my bed, the twin bed Edward had given me when I moved into this house, telling me the room was small, and a larger bed wouldn’t fit. I looked around my room.
Ten feet by ten feet. A bed, a small closet, a nightstand. This was my entire space in a four-bedroom house.
Grace had a full walk-in closet for herself, bigger than my entire room. Edward had his private office where no one was allowed to enter.
There was a TV room, a formal dining room they only used when guests came over, and I lived in the smallest room, the one that was originally the pantry.
But I hadn’t complained. I never complained. Because he was my son, because I loved him, because I thought that one day he would see me as his mother again, and not as a burden.
How naive I was. I heard Edward’s phone ring in the living room, his voice answering, then silence. Then his voice got louder, more agitated.
«What do you mean it’s blocked? That’s impossible. My mom never blocks anything. She doesn’t even know how to use those bank things,» Edward said, and I could hear the frustration in his tone.
I stayed still, holding my breath, listening. «Grace, wait, let me call my mom,» Edward said, and seconds later he was knocking on my door. «Mom, are you in there? I need to talk to you urgently.»
«Coming,» I said, waiting a few seconds before opening the door, pretending I was busy. I opened it, and there was Edward with the phone in his hand, with that anxious expression he got when things didn’t go his way.
«Mom, Grace just called me from the mall. She says your card isn’t working, that it’s showing as blocked. Did you block it?» he asked directly, without beating around the bush.
I looked him in the eyes, and for the first time in twenty years, I wasn’t afraid to tell the truth. «Yes, I blocked it,» I replied calmly.
«What? Why would you do that? Grace is at the checkout with a cart full of things. She’s being completely embarrassed,» Edward said, raising his voice.
«I didn’t give her permission to use my card. That money is mine,» I said, maintaining my composure.
«Mom, don’t start with that now. Grace was just going to buy a few things we need for the house. It’s not a big deal. Call the bank and unblock the card right now,» Edward ordered, with that authoritarian tone he had developed over the years.
«No!» I said simply.
Edward fell silent, looking at me as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. It was probably the first time in two decades that I had said no to him.
«What do you mean no, Mom? You’re not understanding? Grace is waiting at the mall with $82,000 worth of purchases. Do you have any idea how embarrassed she is right now?» Edward set his face, now red with anger.
«$82,000!» I repeated slowly, feeling the words burn my throat. «Edward, she was going to spend $82,000 of my money without even asking me.»
«It’s for the house, Mom. A new TV, a living room set, appliances that we need to replace. It’s not like it’s just for her,» Edward explained, as if that justified everything.
«I did not authorize those expenses. I saved that money working for 40 years. It’s not family money, it’s my money,» I said with a firm voice, though I was shaking inside.
«Mom, you live in this house. You use the electricity, the water, the gas, the internet. All of that costs money. Or do you think it’s free? It’s only fair that you contribute,» Edward said, crossing his arms.
«I give you my entire pension every month, $500 that you never give back. I cook, I clean, I wash, I iron. Isn’t that contributing?» I asked, feeling my voice break, but I stood my ground.
«That $500 doesn’t even cover your food expenses. Mom, you’re being selfish. You have $130,000 saved up that you’re not using for anything. What do you want it for? What are you going to do with it at your age?» Edward said. And those words hurt me more than any physical blow.
«At my age,» as if at 68, I no longer deserved to have dreams, plans, dignity. «That money is to buy my own apartment and stop being a burden to you,» I said. And I saw Edward’s eyes widen in surprise.
«What are you talking about? Nobody said you’re a burden,» Edward replied, but his voice didn’t sound convincing.
«You just said it five minutes ago in the living room. You told Grace I lived here for free, that I ate her food, that I used her utilities. That I was old and didn’t need that much money,» I said. And I saw Edward’s face go pale as he realized I had heard everything.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Edward opened his mouth several times as if trying to find words, but nothing came out. «Mom, I… I didn’t mean it like that,» he finally said, but without looking me in the eye.
«But you said it, and you thought it. And right now you’re more worried about Grace’s embarrassment at the mall than the fact that she tried to spend $82,000 of my dollars without my permission,» I said, feeling the tears trying to escape, but I kept holding them back.
«She’s my wife, Mom. It’s normal for me to defend her,» Edward said.
«And I’m your mother. Isn’t it normal for you to defend me?» I asked. And the question hung in the air between us like a ghost.
Edward fell silent again. He looked at his phone. Then he looked at me. Then he looked back at the phone. I could see the conflict on his face, the battle between his conscience and his loyalty to Grace.
«Mom, please just unblock the card for today. Grace is already there. She’s already picked everything out. We can’t leave her looking like a fool. We can talk about this calmly later,» Edward said in a softer tone, now trying to manipulate me with guilt.
«No, Edward. And tell Grace to come home. The three of us need to talk,» I said with a firmness I didn’t know I had.
«Mom, don’t make this bigger than it is. Please,» Edward pleaded.
«I didn’t do anything. You are the ones who took my card without permission. You are the ones who were planning to spend my money as if it were yours. I’m just protecting what belongs to me,» I said. And I took a step back to close my bedroom door.
Edward stood in front of my closed door. I heard him knock gently with his knuckles. «Mom, open up, please. Don’t be mad,» he said in that voice he used when he was a boy and did something wrong. The voice that used to melt my heart but now just made me angry.
I didn’t answer. I sat on my bed and waited. I heard his footsteps walking away. I heard him talking on the phone with Grace in a low voice. I heard him explain that I had blocked the card. I also heard Grace’s screams from the other end of the phone, so loud they came through the receiver.
«Your mother is crazy! I’m standing here like an idiot in front of all these people. The cashier already called the manager. This is humiliating!» Grace screamed, and I didn’t feel a single ounce of guilt.
Let her feel embarrassed. Let her feel what it’s like when someone makes you look bad. I had felt embarrassed for 20 years every time I was introduced as «the mom who lives with us» at family gatherings. Every time Grace told her friends that I «helped around the house,» as if I were the maid.
Half an hour passed before I heard Grace’s car pull up. The door slammed open so hard it shook the walls. I heard her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, the sound that always announced a storm.
«Where is your mother?» Grace asked in a voice full of venom.
«Grace, calm down. Let’s talk about this calmly,» Edward said, trying to appease her.
«Calmly? Calmly! Your mother put me through the biggest embarrassment of my life. There were like 20 people watching while the cashier tried to run the card over and over. I had to leave everything there and run out!» Grace screamed, and I could picture her perfectly with her red face and her hands waving in the air.
«I know, honey, I know. But she heard what we talked about this morning. She’s upset,» Edward explained.
«So what if she heard? We told the truth! She lives here without paying for anything. The least she can do is help us when we need it. It’s not fair that she has $130,000 saved up while we’re killing ourselves, working and paying all the bills for this house,» Grace said, and every word confirmed what I already knew. To her, I wasn’t a person, I was a source of money.
I got up from the bed and opened my bedroom door. I walked towards the living room where they were both standing. Grace looked at me with those eyes full of fury, still holding the empty shopping bags.
«Josephine, we need to talk seriously,» Grace said, without even greeting me, without a «hello» or «good afternoon.»
«Yes, we need to talk,» I replied calmly, and I sat in the armchair that was the only place they allowed me to sit. The large sofa was Grace’s exclusive territory.
«Why did you block your card? Why did you embarrass me like that?» Grace attacked immediately.
«I didn’t embarrass you. You brought it on yourself by trying to spend $82,000 of my money without my permission,» I replied, looking her directly in the eye.
«It’s not just your money. This is a family. Families share!» Grace shouted, taking a step towards me.
«I am not your family, Grace. I am Edward’s mother, and my money is mine. I earned it, I saved it, and I decide what to do with it,» I said, keeping my tone calm, even though inside I wanted to scream everything I had held back for 15 years.
«Mom, please don’t be like that. Grace just wanted to buy things we really need for the house. The TV in the living room is 8 years old. The couch is all worn out. The refrigerator is making weird noises,» Edward intervened, trying to justify the unjustifiable.
«If you need those things, buy them with your own money. You both work. Edward makes good money as an engineer. Grace works at that clothing store. You have two salaries. Why do you need mine?» I asked.
«Because we have expenses, Josephine. This house doesn’t maintain itself. The mortgage is $1,200 a month, utilities another $300, food about $500, the internet, phones, the car insurance. It all adds up. There’s nothing left at the end of the month,» Grace explained in that victim tone she knew how to use so well.
«I give you $500 for my pension every month. That helps,» I said.
«$500 is nothing, Josephine. That barely covers your food,» Grace said with contempt.
«Then let me go. Let me buy my apartment with my money and stop being a burden to you,» I said. And I saw Grace and Edward exchange a quick glance, a look I couldn’t interpret at the time, but later understood perfectly.
«Mom, don’t say that. Nobody wants you to leave. This is your home,» Edward said. But his words sounded hollow, rehearsed.
«This is not my home, Edward. You said it yourself this morning. This is your house. I just live here,» I said, feeling my voice finally break.
«Oh, for God’s sake, don’t start with the drama, Josephine. Nobody said that. Edward was just talking,» Grace intervened, rolling her eyes.
«He did say it, and he’s right. That’s why I want to leave. I want my own place, where I’m the owner, where I pay my own bills, where nobody makes me feel like I’m a burden,» I said, and the tears finally started to roll down my cheeks.
«Mom, you can’t live alone. You’re 68 years old. What if you get sick? What if you fall? Who’s going to take care of you?» Edward said with that fake concern that angered me more than his insults.
«I’m 68, not 108. I’m perfectly healthy. I can take care of myself. I did it for 40 years before I came to live here,» I replied, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.
«But it’s different now, Mom. You’re older now. You need to be with family,» Edward insisted.
«What I need is respect and dignity, and I don’t have that here,» I said, getting up from the armchair.
«Look, Josephine, let’s be honest,» Grace began, crossing her arms. «You have nowhere to go. You have no other family. Your friends are in the same boat as you, or worse. You have no one. If you leave here, you’ll end up alone in some sad little apartment, eating alone, watching TV alone, dying alone. Is that what you want?»
Her words were like slaps in the face, each one designed to destroy what little self-esteem I had left. And the worst part was, she was right about something. I didn’t have much family. My sister had died five years ago, my parents decades ago. My few friends were scattered, each with her own life, her own problems.
«I’d rather be alone and at peace than accompanied and miserable,» I replied, and I was surprised by my own bravery.
«Oh, how dramatic. Nobody’s making you miserable, Josephine. We’re giving you a roof over your head, food, company. But, of course, nothing is ever enough for you,» Grace said sarcastically.
«You don’t give me anything. I pay with my pension, with my work in this house, with my dignity,» I said, raising my voice for the first time.
«Your pension doesn’t even cover half of what you cost us here. And washing a few dishes and sweeping a little isn’t work. Anyone can do that!» Grace shouted, completely losing her composure.
«Then anyone can do it. Hire someone. I’m leaving,» I said, and walked towards my room.
«You’re not going anywhere, Mom. Stop being ridiculous!» Edward yelled after me.
I locked myself in my room and heard the two of them continue arguing outside, Grace blaming Edward for being weak with me, Edward trying to calm her down, both of them talking about me as if I were a problem to be solved and not a person.
I sat on my bed for hours, listening as the house gradually returned to its usual silence. Grace had locked herself in her room, slamming the door. Edward tried knocking on my door two more times, but I didn’t answer. I had nothing more to say to him at that moment.
When night fell and the house was completely silent, I took out my old phone and dialed the only number I knew would comfort me. Linda, my lifelong friend. The only person who truly knew me.
«Josephine? What happened? It’s almost 10 o’clock at night,» Linda answered with a worried voice, and then I broke down.
I told her everything: from the conversation I overheard in the morning to the fight with Grace, from the $82,000 they tried to spend to the hurtful words about my age and my loneliness. Linda listened without interrupting, letting me cry and vent like I hadn’t in years.
