I Became The Pariah Of The Family

“I’m telling you. Instead of buying a bunch of junk, you should just buy the best once. Isn’t ‘longtermism’ the trend in the city? Doing it right the first time is better than constantly patching things up.”

Her tone was heavy with the weary air of a martyr and so full of unearned wisdom.

“Patrick doesn’t make much; he can’t help us. And you live so far away; your help is always barely enough. If we had a pension, we could spend our own money. If there were extras, we could even help you and Patrick. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

I took a long, steady breath and made a decision.

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want this phone?”

Sensing she had me leaning her way, she snapped, “Yes. Take this piece of junk away.”

“Fine. I’ll sell it second-hand.”

I picked up a needle from the sewing machine and popped the SIM card out.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you I bought screen insurance. I can get it fixed for free, which means I can still get a high price for selling it.”

“Even fixed, it’s still damaged. I guess I’ll just make do with it.”

She reached out to snatch it back, but I blocked her.

With her income, she would never be able to buy a phone like that herself. Her old one was practically dust. She was notoriously careless with things. Dropping her phone on the floor was just entry-level damage. I had even seen it in the laundry and toilet.

“Even if I don’t sell it, I can use it. Everyone at my office has two phones anyway. I might as well catch up with the trend.”

I was not lying. My colleagues did have two or more phones each.

Mom’s face twisted with regret. But she was too embarrassed to show her greed openly while her “bigger goal” was still on the table.

On the way home, I checked her shopping history, and a cold chill ran down my spine.

A long list of men’s shoes, athletic wear, and fitness trackers. They were all on the “Buy Now, Pay Later” scheme.

It totaled over one thousand dollars.

I had worked so hard to get promoted twice. My salary was finally enough for me to survive. I also spent some of it to heal the scarcity of my childhood.

Mom always said, “I wish you and Patrick could just swap places.”

She wanted me to be successful, but she wanted my brother, Patrick Cooper, to be more successful than me.

However, reality did not go that way, and she resented me for it.

She said that I was “stealing his luck.” She called me selfish for moving away. She even refused to pay for my college and forced me to take out loans. She had to be the guarantor for those loans.

All of this looked like a conflict between Mom and me. But in reality, Dad and Patrick were the only beneficiaries. Patrick was the precious son. My parents would lose sleep if he had to spend ten dollars on a phone bill.

I used to wonder why they pushed so hard to hold him up while dragging me down, but their logic was always the same.

“He’s younger. He doesn’t understand these things.”

“You earn more. Once you get married, you’re gone. We can only rely on Patrick, so of course he’ll come first.”

“Why are you being so difficult? Patrick would never be this petty.”

In the end, their tag-teamed guilt-tripping always left me suffocated and defeated.

It was two against one. I never stood a chance.