My son posted a status update, visible only to me.
"Being reincarnated is really a technical skill. I envy classmates who were born in Rome. The two in my family are so ordinary it makes you despair."
The attached photo showed me and his dad from behind, standing in the kitchen, wearing old clothes washed so many times they'd faded to nothing.
My phone buzzed again. A private message from him.
"Next weekend my college classmates are getting together. Everyone's bringing their parents. You two shouldn't come. I'm afraid of being embarrassed. Transfer me $5,000. I'll treat them to a nicer hotel dinner instead."
I stood frozen.
So the son I'd raised for twenty-eight years saw us as an unpresentable flaw in his life. Even more ridiculous—less than five minutes after posting, he deleted the status. He thought I didn't see it.
I laughed suddenly and turned to my husband.
"Don't give that ungrateful brat the Clearwater Bay villa as a wedding gift. We'll keep it for ourselves. Perfect for retirement."
——
Early the next morning, Alex Mason Jr. called.
His tone carried the usual impatience. "Mom, did you transfer the money? I need it urgently. Best if it hits my account before noon."
I held the phone steady. "What money?"
"Didn't I tell you last night? The class reunion!" His voice pitched higher, demanding. "Five thousand! If you're not coming, you've got to pay up, right? Otherwise where am I supposed to put my pride?"
"Oh, that." I kept my voice even. "I discussed it with your dad. We've decided to go."
Dead silence.
A few seconds later, his roar nearly blew out the receiver.
"Alex Whitney, you did this on purpose, didn't you? I clearly told you not to come! Wearing your flea-market junk—what, are you going to tell my classmates how you haggle over twenty cents at the farmers market?"
His words pierced something in my chest.
I took a deep breath and let my voice go cold. "We're your parents. Not your stain."
"You are!" He didn't hold back, tearing me down to nothing. "Do you know what kind of leader my roommate's dad is? Do you know how rich the family is of the girl I like? If you show up, how am I supposed to keep moving in that circle?"
I cut him off, my tone icing over. "So we gave birth to you, raised you, paid for your art degree—and in your eyes, we're only good for embarrassing you?"
"Then what else?" He laughed, smug and certain. "Other than giving me this life, what decent resources have you ever provided? My classmates—their families set them up with jobs right after graduation. Bought them houses. Cars. And me? I'm stuck teaching kids to paint in this crappy little town. If you two had any ability at all, would I have to struggle this hard?"
I listened to him spill complaint after complaint.
Before, I would've felt the ache. Would've blamed myself for not being capable enough, for holding my son back.
Now? I just found it laughable.
"Are you done?"
He hadn't expected that. He choked on his next words.
"There's no $5,000." My voice was final. "The reunion—your dad and I will be there. What we wear, what we say, is our business. Take it or leave it."
He sputtered, struggling to form words.
I kept going. "And starting today, I won't give you another cent."
"Fine! You've got guts!" He was grinding his teeth now. "Fine! Come then. Don't regret it. When the time comes, you two will be the ones looking bad. And when you're old—don't expect me to take care of you!"
