At 25, I built my own house, and at the housewarming, my mother pulled me aside
«Of course. I want good for you. Think, live with Mom, save on bills, food; money adds up.
Ethan happy in house, everyone content.» «Everyone content,» David repeated. He felt the familiar feeling rising.
The same rage as seven years ago, standing with suitcase at door. «Mom,» he said slowly, «remember what happened seven years ago?» «What seven years?» Emily Johnson frowned. «Why bring up past?» «Because you threw me out on my 18th birthday.
Remember? Suitcase by door, take keys. Remember?» Mom’s face changed. She saw the talk turning wrong.
«David, no need to stir old. We agreed. Forget past.»
«We agreed nothing. You decided to forget past. But I remember.
Every day.» David stood, went to window. Outside was his garden, his plot, his world.
All created by his hands, his labor. And now Mom wants to take it and give to her favorite. «Remember sleeping at station first week,» he continued, not turning.
«Remember washing in public restroom. Remember eating ramen three years straight, saving every penny.» «Son, why torture yourself?» Emily Johnson said less confidently.
«It’s all past.» «Know what else I remember?» David turned to her. «How you never called in seven years.
Never asked if I was alive. Never invited for one New Year. I thought you’d come yourself. But now I’m earning, built house, and suddenly you remember your older son.
Amazing, right?» Ethan tried to butt in. «Bro, why get worked up? Mom wants good for you.» «Shut up,» David said so quietly Ethan silenced.
«You keep your mouth shut.» «David, calm down,» Emily Johnson said. «We’re family.
Family helps each other.» «Family?» David laughed, but cold, bitter. «Family» is when a mother doesn’t kick her son out.
«Family» is asking how you are, not just when money’s needed. «Why so? I came to make peace.» «No,» David shook head, «you came to take, as always.
Before, you took maternal love from me and gave to Ethan; now want to take house.» Emily Johnson stood, approached son. «Son, what are you saying? What love took? I loved you both equally»…
«Equally?» David looked at her so she stepped back involuntarily. «Equally» is kicking one out at 18, buying toys for the other at 23. «But Ethan’s younger.
Harder for him.» «Harder for Ethan?» David turned to brother. «Tell me, Ethan, what’s been hard? Mom doted on you? Granted every wish? Where’s the hardship?» Ethan silent, eyes on floor.
He knew his position weak. «And know what’s funniest,» David continued, «you really think I should give house to Ethan, sincerely, because in your world I exist only to ensure his well-being.» «David, stop!» Emily Johnson raised voice.
«I’m your mother, I gave birth to you.» Gave birth, yes. But raised, loved, supported? Or just fed and clothed as needed.
«How can you say that?» «Easy, because true.» David stepped close to mother; she was shorter, he bent to meet eyes. «Listen carefully,» he said quietly, «this house I built with my hands.
Every brick, every board soaked in my sweat and blood. I built it 12 years, first in dreams, then reality. It’s my house, mine and Olivia’s, and I won’t give it to anyone.
But Ethan has nowhere to live. Not my problem; let him work, save, buy his own, like I did. But you’re older, you should help.»
«I owe nothing to anyone, especially those who threw me out.» Emily Johnson saw talk at dead end. She tried another tactic—tears.
«Son, how can you?» She pulled handkerchief, wiped eyes. «I’m old, sick; need help, not fighting.» «Help?» David smirked.
«What help? Take house and give to Ethan.» «Why take? For family. Better used as intended.»
«It’s used as intended. I live here with wife.» «But you’re childless, Ethan planning family.»
«Planning isn’t doing. And our kid plans none of your business.» Olivia, silent till now, couldn’t hold.
«Emily, maybe no more on this? See David’s upset.» «Why upset?» Mom turned to daughter-in-law. «Family asks help.
Normal person helps.» «Normal person,» David repeated. «What’s normal in asking son to give away house he built seven years?» «Not give, yield.
For brother, for family.» «For Ethan,» David corrected. «Everything always for Ethan.»
He stepped from mother, sat in chair by fireplace. Fire crackled, illusion of coziness, but atmosphere tense to limit. «Know, Mom,» he said wearily, «I thought time would change us, we’d get older, wiser, maybe talk like adults finally.»
«We are talking like adults?» «No.» «You talk like seven years ago, same demands, same logic: David must, David owes, David yields. But you’re older son.»
«I’m as much son as Ethan, but you’ll never get that.» Emily Johnson saw persuasion failing. She tried pity, went to couch, sat with theatrical sigh.
«Oh, heart’s acting up,» she said, clutching chest. «Nerves, probably. At my age, stress bad.»
David didn’t turn head. «Don’t act; your heart’s fine.» «David,» Mom indignant, «how can you? I feel bad.»..
