The day I received my five million dollars in royalties, I told my mom she should get a divorce.
"Mom, you've spent all these years in that marriage being treated like dirt. Divorce him. I'll take care of you from now on."
Lauren Lawrence Lambert was quiet for a long time. In the end, she decided to give my father one last chance.
"If your dad can just swap out the detergent this year and give me a bouquet of flowers for Women's Day, I won't make waves. I'll stick it out with him for the rest of my life."
I could tell she still had hope for him.
I didn't have the heart to let her down, so starting on the fourth, I bombarded my dad with daily texts reminding him to buy flowers.
He promised he would.
On March 8th, my dad was uncharacteristically generous.
For the first time ever, he bought Grandma Lambert a fifty-gram gold bracelet. He gave my sister-in-law Vivian a ten-gram gold necklace. He even sent me $8,888 to buy skincare products.
But when it came to my mom?
He pulled out a bottle of detergent. $1.88. Clearance aisle.
——
The moment that bottle appeared, the smile on my mom's face froze. The last flicker of light in her eyes went out.
My dad didn't notice. He was still grinning, waving her over.
"What are you standing there for? Take your gift and put it in the bathroom."
Mom didn't take it.
She just stared at the bottle.
The same brand as always.
The same blue plastic. The same red "buy one, get one free" sticker.
Thirty years.
Every single Women's Day, this was what she got.
Dad finally sensed something was off and frowned.
"What's the matter? You don't like it? I got the big bottle this time. Cost two bucks more than last year's. Guaranteed to wash more clothes and last longer!"
I couldn't listen to another word. I couldn't stand watching my mom's face crumble, so I tried to smooth things over.
"Dad, don't you have another gift you haven't brought out yet?"
He slapped his thigh like he'd just remembered something.
"Right! I got your mom something else too."
A faint spark returned to my mom's eyes.
Then she saw what was in his hand, and it died again.
Not flowers.
A pair of yellow rubber dish gloves.
"The other day when you were doing dishes, I noticed your gloves had a hole in them. Passed by the store today and grabbed you a new pair. Happy?"
He dangled the gloves in front of her, looking pleased with himself.
"Lauren, you're always saying I don't pay attention, that I don't care about what you need. Well, I bought you gloves, didn't I? How is that not caring?"
My mom's lips had started to tremble.
She was furious.
But she didn't say a word.
I was furious too.
I had reminded him every single day since the fourth. Buy flowers. Don't let Mom down.
And he'd agreed. Every time.
He'd even sent me a photo of roses and lilies while he was out shopping today.
Asked me: Desiree Lambert, does your mom like roses or lilies better?
So why did he come home with detergent?
I couldn't hold back anymore. My voice rose sharp and loud.
"Dad, Mom doesn't want detergent. She doesn't want dish gloves. She wants flowers. I texted you every single day about this. You said you'd do it. So why is it still detergent?"
I pulled up our chat history and held the phone in front of his face.
Dad, Mom wants flowers for Women's Day. Make sure you buy them!
Got it.
Something seemed to click in his memory.
But instead of looking guilty, his expression darkened.
"Flowers? What's the point of flowers? They wilt in two days."
"Besides, flower prices are jacked up around holidays. Nine stems in a bouquet, a hundred bucks. That's enough to buy ten bottles of detergent. How is that not a waste of money?"
"A waste of money?" I stared at him. "Since when is buying Mom a gift a waste of money?"
