He blinked slowly. “No. From you.”
I laughed. I actually laughed. It burst out of me as a sharp, disbelieving sound.
“You’re joking,” I said.
His expression didn’t change. “I’m serious.”
The laughter died in my throat.
“How much?” I asked, more out of morbid curiosity than anything.
“Five thousand,” he said.
Silence fell so thick I could hear the hum of the fridge. Melissa’s eyes darted between us, hope glimmering behind the remnants of her misery.
“Five thousand,” I repeated. “A month?”
“Yes,” he said, as if he were suggesting I lend someone a pair of shoes. “That should cover basic living costs and keep her afloat.”
I stared at him. That number was more than my mortgage, my utilities, and my grocery budget put together. It was more than I’d ever seen in my account at one time while I was paying off loans. It was a fantasy amount for “basic” anything.
“I can’t do that,” I said. “That’s… impossible.”
“You make good money,” Mom said. “You don’t have a husband, you don’t have children. What are you spending your money on?”
“Me,” I said, stunned. “My life. My future. The house I live in. The retirement I’m trying not to starve in.”
Dad’s mouth tightened. “Your sister is family. Family takes care of each other.”
“Family also doesn’t drain each other’s accounts without asking,” I said before I could stop myself.
Melissa shrank back slightly, but Dad surged forward, locking his gaze on me.
“You owe this family,” he said.
“For what?” I asked. “For raising me? That was your responsibility. I didn’t ask to be born.”
“You wouldn’t be where you are without us,” he said, the old refrain. “We gave you everything.”
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