I arrived at the holiday brunch with my kids. Dad smirked.
“This was meant to be a nice day. Why did you come?”
My son looked at me.
“Should we leave?”
I said, “Yes. Right now.”
An hour later, Dad regretted his words.
I’m Nancy. I’m the daughter who always says yes. The one who shows up, covers the bill, takes the phone calls at 2:00 a.m., and hands over money even when I barely have enough for myself.
The last month alone, I sent over $700 to my parents. Half of it was for my dad’s urgent car repairs, which, funny enough, turned into a new outdoor smoker and a pair of Bluetooth headphones for his walks. A few weeks before that, my mom asked for help paying her dental bill, then posted a photo of her spa day with a friend in a hotel suite.
I didn’t even ask. I never do.
They’ve always been like that. Selfish, but embarrassingly proud of how little they give in return. My mom told me once that having me at 17 ruined her body. I was 10. That was the moment I understood what it meant to be an obligation.
My dad, when he’s drunk—and that’s often—likes to joke that if condoms weren’t so expensive in the ’90s, he’d have a boat by now. No one ever corrects him, so I say yes.
Yes to bringing the kids to their house, even though my mother criticizes their clothes and my dad calls my daughter moody if she doesn’t hug him.
Yes to paying for their Wi-Fi so they can stream shows and ignore my calls.
Yes to keeping a shared account just for emergencies, which they treat like a vending machine with my name on it.
So, when the usual text came through—holiday brunch tomorrow—I almost didn’t respond, but I did.
We’ll be there.
I got the kids up early, dressed them nice, even straightened my daughter’s hair, and let my son bring his Switch in the car. Picked up a box of pastries on the way. I wore the necklace my mom once liked, even though the clasp scratches my neck.
When we got there, the door was unlocked. No one greeted us. The TV was blasting some morning game show. My mom was folding napkins like they owed her money. My dad was already halfway into a drink.
I stepped in with a smile that no one looked at.
He didn’t even wait two minutes. My dad looked up and said, loud enough for the cousins to hear:
“This was meant to be a nice day. Why did you come?”
My son glanced at me.
“Should we leave?”
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
TAP → NEXT PAGE → 👇
