I continued.
“When I arrived, you told me to serve everyone else and eat old leftovers by myself.”
“We had guests,” she replied.
“So did you.”
She frowned.
“I was your guest, Christa. Apparently, that never occurred to you.”
For a moment, she looked uncomfortable.
Then her expression hardened again.
“If you wanted to feel included, you should’ve said something. But removing our financial support isn’t very mature.”
I almost smiled.
For years, I’d been called difficult whenever I expressed disappointment.
And now maturity apparently meant continuing to pay bills while pretending nothing was wrong.
“I understand that these changes are inconvenient,” I replied. “But I’m retired, and I need to manage my finances responsibly.”
She shook her head.
“You’re only pushing us away.”
I studied her face.
There it was.
The suggestion that my place in the family depended on what I provided.
I thought about the phone bills.
