Dad got a rare genetic disease. I sold the house and the car to scrape together money, but it still wasn't enough.
When I couldn't take it anymore, I @-tagged those so-called elders one by one in the family group chat.
"Aunt Anna, when Marcus got married, you borrowed $100,000 from my dad for the house. Time to pay it back, right?"
"Uncle Charles, when Brittany was job hunting, you borrowed $50,000 from my dad to grease some palms. She's been working three years now—your finances should be looking better, right?"
"Aunt Hailey, when you opened that beauty salon, you borrowed $200,000 from my dad. Now you've got multiple branches, and your social media is nothing but parties and vacations. Don't tell me you can't come up with the money."
Mom and Dad still wanted to keep the peace with relatives and kept telling me to delete the messages. I wiped my tears hard and, in anger, slammed my phone down in front of Dad.
On the screen, clear as day: a $200 transfer Uncle Charles had sent that afternoon.
"Carrie, your dad being sick makes us very sad too. I discussed it with your Aunt Anna and Aunt Hailey. This $200 is what our three households scraped together. Take it and use it first."
I looked at Dad, hating that he couldn't stand up for himself.
"Either they cough up that money today. Or I'm going to blow the roof off this family!"
1.
Dad's lips moved, like he still wanted to defend his brother and sisters. I cut him off.
"Dad, you don't need to say any more. If there are things you can't bring yourself to say, let me say them. When they borrowed money from you, they opened their mouths and it was tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands. Now that you're sick, they transfer $200—who are they trying to insult? Siblings like that—do you really still want them?"
Mom sat to the side crying silently. Dad was at a loss for words and didn't speak again.
Looking at my parents, already gray at the temples, I felt my heart ache.
Dad had one younger brother and two younger sisters. Grandpa and Grandma died early. As the oldest, Dad started taking on the responsibility of raising his siblings when he was fifteen.
All these years, Dad kept Grandpa and Grandma's last words close to his heart. As long as it was within his ability, as long as his brother and sisters asked, he never refused.
Fortunately, Mom and Dad ran a small business in the city. We weren't rich, but we got by.
But this time, Dad's diagnosis became the last straw that crushed our family.
Even though we got by, we didn't have much savings. The medication for rare diseases wasn't covered by insurance, and chemotherapy plus the expensive imported drugs quickly drained us dry.
We sold the house and the car, and only then did we keep Dad alive until now.
Just as I was thinking that, my phone buzzed. Uncle Charles had sent a message in the group chat.
"Kid, why are you saying things that hurt feelings? We're all one family. Your dad is my own brother. You think you're anxious? You think we're not anxious too? Alright, tonight your Aunt Anna, Aunt Hailey, and I will come over. Whatever needs to be said, we'll talk it through face to face."
Seeing his message, Dad—who had just been dejected—had hope light up in his eyes again.
"Carrie, see? Your uncle and aunts still care about me. He's reaching out to figure things out. I'm fine by myself in the hospital. You and your mom head back. Tonight, talk things through properly with them."
I still wanted to say something, but Mom grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room.
"Let's see what they say tonight first. What if they really are going to pay the money back? Wouldn't your dad's treatment have hope then?"
I nodded without a word and followed Mom home.
