I Let Them Use My Money Until They Fed My Son a Hotdog

tried to spare my feelings.

My mother hissed my name like I was crossing some line that had only ever been painted around me.

Dad spoke before she could.

“Was any of that money mine?”

It was such a strange question.

Not “Did we do wrong.”

Not “Why didn’t I see this.”

Just that.

Was any of that money mine.

I said, “No.”

He sat back.

Then, very slowly, he took continue reading …