Three days later, while Caleb slept in the ICU with tubes taped against his tiny chest, my phone buzzed.
Mom: Need $5,000 for your sister’s wedding dress. Send today. Vanessa found the one.
I stared at the message until the letters blurred.
Not “How is Caleb?”
Not “I’m sorry.”
Just money.
For years, my mother had been allowed access to one of my secondary checking accounts because she said she needed “emergency help” after my father passed away. Vanessa used my credit card for “temporary” expenses that somehow never ended. I paid their phone bills, insurance gaps, and rent shortages while they called me dramatic whenever I needed emotional support.
I opened my banking app.
I sent my mother fifty cents.
Memo: Buy a veil.
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