Grandma covered her mouth.
Mom said quickly, “He offered.”
I stared at her. “I offered two hundred dollars because Dad said the mortgage was tight. Then it became four hundred. Then six. Then eight.”
Dad’s face hardened. “Because costs went up.”
Grandpa asked, “And Claire?”
No one answered.
Claire rolled her eyes. “I was married then.”
“And after the divorce?”
“I had babies.”
Grandpa nodded. “So Ethan paid because he had no babies.”
“That’s not what this is,” Mom said.
“Yes, it is,” I said.
My own voice surprised me. For years, I had kept everything locked inside because I hated conflict. I worked at a logistics company, came home exhausted, ate microwave dinners in the basement, and listened while everyone upstairs called me selfish any time I wanted something for myself.
I had missed friends’ weddings because Mom said Claire needed babysitting help. I had postponed applying for apartments because Dad said renting elsewhere would be stupid when I could help family. I had watched Claire buy a new SUV while I drove a twelve-year-old Honda with a heater that barely worked.
And every month, I handed Dad eight hundred dollars.
Grandpa’s fingers tapped once against the table. “Ethan, do you have savings?”
I looked down. “Not much.”
“How much?”
“About eleven hundred.”
Grandpa closed his eyes.
Dad scoffed. “That’s because he wastes money.”
I almost laughed. “On what?”
Dad pointed toward the basement door. “Games. Takeout. Whatever you do down there.”
“I haven’t bought a new game in two years. I eat takeout once a week because nobody saves dinner for me when I work late.”
Grandma’s eyes moved toward Mom.
Mom looked away.
Grandpa stood. “Get your coat.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re coming with us tonight.”
Dad’s chair scraped backward. “Absolutely not.”
Grandpa turned to him. “He is twenty-six years old.”
“He lives under my roof.”
Grandpa’s voice went cold. “And that roof was paid for with help from me. Don’t test my memory, Richard.”
For the first time all night, Dad had nothing to say.
Grandpa looked back at me. “Pack what you need for a few days. Tomorrow, we talk about the rest.”
Mom started crying harder. “You’re breaking this family apart.”
Grandpa looked at her sadly.
“No, Linda. I’m just opening the basement door.”
