The Good Son's Comeback

A week later, I was working overtime when I got a call from an unfamiliar Seahaven number.

"Hello?"

"Evan. It's me."

It was my dad, Tom Clark.

He sounded tired.

I stayed silent.

"Are you really going this far? Won't you even answer our calls?"

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Your mom is sick. She has high blood pressure. She's in the hospital."

My heart sank, but it soon grew cold. "Is it serious?"

"The doctor says she needs to stay for observation." He paused before adding in a commanding tone, "Go on leave. Come back for a while."

"I'm busy. I can't."

"Is work more important than your mother?" He raised his voice.

"Yes," I said calmly. "Because I can't rely on my mother. I can only rely on my job."

I could hear his breathing grow heavy. I knew he was upset.

"Evan, you've grown wings, haven't you? Are you abandoning your parents over some money?"

"Dad, that's not just some money. That's 600 grand." I corrected him. "That was my chance to build a life in Seahaven, and you ruined it."

"That was our money! We can give it to whoever we want!" he roared.

"Exactly." I nodded. "So my time and energy belong to me. I'll give them to whoever I want. Right now, I choose my work."

"You–" He was so upset he couldn't say a word.

"Mom's in the hospital. You're there, aren't you? What about your precious nephew? He just received 600 grand from you. Shouldn't he show some filial piety?"

"You ungrateful brat!" He yelled.

"Dad, let me do the math for you," I cut him off.

"I make four grand a month. One day off costs me about 300 bucks with deductions and bonuses. Round-trip train tickets cost over a grand. Add time lost, one trip back costs me at least 1,500 bucks."

He didn't say anything, but I could hear his breathing grow heavier.

"Insurance covers most of mom's hospital bills. You'll pay a few hundred bucks at most. Don't you still have 300 grand saved for retirement? Is it that hard to spend a few hundred bucks on her treatment?"

He gasped. "How do you know we still have 300 grand?"

That sentence got rid of the last bit of warmth in me.

"So you do have 300 grand left."

I laughed coldly. "Last week, Edith told me you spent everything on Logan's new house and barely had anything left from your retirement fund. I almost believed her."

They weren't dumb. They kept a safety net.

It just never included me.

"You had 900 grand. You gave 600 grand to Logan and kept 300 grand for yourselves. I'm your son, but I couldn't even borrow 150 grand from you," I said each word firmly. "Dad, what are your hearts even made of?"

There was a long silence.

"Evan–" He seemed to want to explain.

"Don't bother." I cut him off. "You have 300 grand for Mom's treatment. You have time to look after her too. Logan has time as well. Whether I go back or not doesn't matter."

"Are you really not coming back?" he asked in disbelief.

"I'm not," I said. "Take care."

I hung up and blocked the new number too.

The office lights were harsh and made me look like a ghost.

I slumped over my desk, and my shoulders shook uncontrollably.

It turned out I really did mean nothing to them.

They'd rather spend their money on outsiders or save it up for themselves than give a cent to me.

That was fine.

It just made it easier for me to walk away completely. I had no regrets.