5 Hours Of Reddit Stories - My Parents Gave My Sister A Brand-New Car For Christmas, Leaving Me...

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
My parents gave my sister a brand new car for Christmas,
leaving me with nothing until a winning lottery ticket changed everything.
The peacefulness of Christmas morning was broken by the sound
of laughter and delighted squeals coming up from our driveway.
With my coffee mug warming my hands, I stood at
the kitchen window and watched my younger sister Tessa hop
up and down next to a brand new red Volkswagen

(00:20):
Beetle that had a huge silver ribbon on top, with
joy on their cheeks. My parents smiled as they gave
her the keys. I'm Ella, and I recognized at this
point that I would always be the under dog in
my family's history. Through the glass, Tessa's voice could be heard,
Oh my god, I can't believe you guys did this
as if it were made of gold. She was already

(00:40):
seated in the driver's seat and rubbing her hands over
the steering wheel. I looked at my small Christmas presents
to everyone, the pile of scratch off lottery tickets on
the counter. They had yet to bother opening them. After
investing every available dollar in my culinary school applications, the
tickets were the only thing I could afford. However, it
would have been useless to try to explain that to
my family. They had been rather explicit about what they

(01:03):
thought of my pastime. I was shocked to hear my
mother say, lay, she was still wearing her coat when
she stood in the doorway. Why aren't you outside with everyone?
Come see your sister's car. I made an effort to grin,
just finishing my coffee. Mom, with that typical expression of despair,
she scowled, you could try being happy for her. You know,

(01:23):
this is a big moment. Before I could stop them,
they blurted out right because I'm the one who makes
everything about myself. When she said, don't start, not today,
I watched her go back outside, biting my tongue. My
father was demonstrating how Tessa should adjust her mirrors through
the window. He was grinning proudly, which is something I

(01:44):
never managed to achieve, not when I made the honor roll,
when I won the regional cooking competition, or even when
I was accepted to culinary school before they refused to
cover my tuition. I found myself reaching for the lotto tickets.
I began scratching out the numbers on one out of habit,
not really noticing until I noticed three match digits. I
double checked the winning combinations, and my heart began beating.

(02:06):
Fifty thousand dollars with trembling palms, I gazed at the ticket.
I could pay for culinary school With this money, I
could begin constructing the restaurant of my dreams. At last,
I could demonstrate to everyone the value of my pastime. However,
this ticket was intended to be a present. Giving cash
to them and seeing them celebrate another lucky break would
be the appropriate thing to do. Cash would likely go

(02:28):
into Tessa's education fund or a family vacation that I
wouldn't be invited to. My folks chuckled as Tessa played
fully honked the horn outside. They hadn't even realized I
wasn't there. That's when I decided what to do. I
folded the winning ticket carefully and put it in my pocket.
I collected the remaining scratch offs and disposed of them
in the recycle bin. What they hadn't bothered to open.

(02:50):
They wouldn't miss lah, A voice shouted from outside my
father's house. Get out here and take a family picture.
As I approached the front door, I stopped and placed
my hand and on the handle. They were huddled around
the automobile, their breath evident in the chilly December air.
As I could see through the window without me, they
appeared to be the ideal family of three coming. I

(03:11):
returned the call, but I went upstairs to my room
instead of joining them. Within an hour, I had the
winning ticket in my wallet and a laptop open to
apartment listings. Sometimes the finest form of retaliation is to
leave rather than to get even, and I eventually had
my chance because of their forgotten Christmas present. When I
unlocked the door to my new flat, the key felt

(03:31):
heavy in my hand. A studio above a downtown tie
restaurant wasn't much, but it was mine. My stomach rumbled
in spite of everything, as the scent of garlic and
lemongrass rose through the floorboards. My phone was still blazing
with mist calls from home. Three weeks after Christmas, my
mother continued to text me, each one more filled with
guilt than the last, even after I had left a

(03:51):
letter stating that I needed space. Your being selfish, Lilah.
Your sister needs you right now. After setting my duffel
bag on the exposed mattress in the corner. I began
unpacking the few culinary supplies I had packed, including a
well seasoned cast iron pan, my knife roll, and the necessities.
The winning lottery ticket, The funds already set aside for
tuition at the culinary school, and the security deposit for

(04:13):
this apartment were all securely deposited. I froze when I
heard a knock on my door. Had they discovered me somehow? Hello,
new tenant. It was a strange, highly accented voice. I'm
Marco from downstairs. A tall man in chef's whites, with
his salt and pepper hair pulled back in a short ponytail,
was waiting for me. As I opened the door, his

(04:33):
blazer bore the Moniker executive chef. He pointed to my
boxes and remarked, I noticed someone moving in. Wanted to
introduce myself. We try to keep a family atmosphere here.
I winced when I heard the word family, but his
kind grin calmed me. He noticed the knife roll that
was visible through my open door. You cook, he inquired,
as he followed my eyes. I try to I'm actually

(04:56):
starting culinary school next month. His eyes glowed, no kidding
were short staff downstairs could use someone who knows their
way around a kitchen, even part time. My phone buzzed
once more. Before I could reply, the name of my
father appeared on the screen. Marco noticed my face and said,
complicated situation. You could say that. He gave a contemplative nod. Listen,

(05:19):
come down tomorrow morning if you're interested. Sometimes the best
therapy is keeping your hands busy and your knives sharp.
I eventually listened to my father's voicemail after he departed.
He spoke in a rough, irate tone, your mother's upset
and Tessa's grades are slipping. Whatever point you're trying to make,
you've made it. Time to grow up and come home.
After deleting the message, I launched my laptop and navigated

(05:42):
to the website of the cooking school. Tuition for the
first term was due the following week. I had my
finger hovering over the submit payment button when Tessa sent
me another text. Mom and dad are freaking out. Where
are you. I'm worried. Compared to the others, this one
hurt more. Even if Tessa and I didn't get along.
She wasn't to blame for our parents' actions, but she

(06:03):
had never been able to hide anything from our parents,
so I couldn't risk giving her the truth. I'm safe,
I replied by typing, just need some time. I was
in Marco's kitchen the following morning, slicing vegetables with more
attention to detail than was necessary. The motion felt familiar
in calming. Marco worked next to me, sometimes giving me
technique advice. He remarked, you have good instincts, as he

(06:27):
observed me adjusting the heat beneath a boiling sauce. But
you're angry. It shows in your cooking. Is that a
bad thing? He gave a shrug. Depends what you do
with it. Anger can fuel passion or destroy it. The
difference is in the control. My mother texted me again,
and my phone buzzed in my pocket. I choose to
disregard it. Marco went on, trying the sauce with a spoon.

(06:50):
The people who hurt us don't suffer when we let
them consume our thoughts. They have no idea. We are
the only ones that suffer, I reflected, on my silent
exit and the lottery ticket. They must occasionally realize that
they cannot take people for granted. He gave me the
spoon and said, maybe, but be careful that your desire
for vengeance doesn't become your motivation. Try this, what is

(07:13):
absent thinking? I took a taste of the sauce, salt,
and perhaps a little acid. He grinned. Exactly. In both
life and cookery, balance is crucial. A server burst through
the entrance of the kitchen chef. A woman is outside,
inquiring about Ella, claims to be her mother. My heart
stopped beating. I could see her looking around the dining

(07:34):
room through the kitchen window, Tessa following her like a shadow.
Marco gave me a curious glance. Silently, he said, back door,
through the alley. But keep in mind that you can't
run indefinitely. You must eventually take a firm stance and
serve the food you have cooked. I tied my apron
as I nodded. The true test was deciding when to
stay and fight, not when to flee. After three months

(07:57):
of culinary school, I felt like I was finally setting in.
I seldom had time to think about my family because
of my early classes, afternoon jobs at Marco's restaurant, and
late evenings designing my own future kitchen. That should have
been my first clue that things were going to blow
up in my face. As I was getting ready for
dinner service, Amelia entered Marco's kitchen, Now a rising star

(08:18):
chef at one of the city's best restaurants. My old
friend from high school culinary club looked just like I
remembered her, pristine chef's white's, neatly combed hair, and that
grin that never quite reached her eyes. She leaned on
the prep table and muttered, Lila Hawkins. I couldn't believe it,
but I had heard reports that you were employed here
by now, shouldn't you be managing your own business. I'm

(08:39):
still learning, I said, continuing to cut vegetables in the
steady pattern Marco had shown me. Not all of us
were supported by our parents. While attending the cordon bleu.
Talking about parents, she added, taking out her phone and
browsing through some content. Last week, I met your mother
at the charity dinner. She appeared concerned about you. My
finger almost got caught as my knife slipped. You spoke

(09:01):
with my mom. She made a comment about you stealing
money and fleeing theatrical even for you. Suddenly the kitchen
felt too small and too hot. That wasn't the case. No,
Her eyebrows went up. I know you've been looking at
restaurant business plans since I also heard from several investors,
considering that the timing is intriguing. Now my hands trembled, Amelia,

(09:25):
what do you want? Want? All I'm worried about is
my old acquaintance. You know, it takes more than simply
money to open a business. It requires reputation, relationships, and stability.
She underlined the final point, it would be unfortunate if
prospective investors were aware of rumors regarding the true source
of your startup funding. Marco's voice exploded from the doorway

(09:47):
before I could reply, is everything in here all right?
Amelia's smile became incredibly sweet. Just catching up with a
friend from long ago, Chef Marco, I actually came to
discuss business. Next month, my restaurant will host a pop
up event with up and coming talented artists. Lay's participation
would be greatly appreciated. Marco glanced at me, but I

(10:08):
was unable to look him in the eye decisively. I'll
let her think about it, he stated, Now, if you'll
excuse us, we have service to prepare for. I tried
to stabilize myself by holding onto the side of the
prep table. When Amelia left, I muttered, She's going to
tell everyone, the investors my family. Under his breath, Marco said,

(10:29):
tell them what I told him, everything, including the lottery ticket,
my escape, and the meticulously planned plans that were now
in danger of failing. He gave me a towel to
wipe my hands. After listening to me without passing judgment.
His words were, so now you have a choice. You
can run again, or you can face this head on.
How she'll destroy everything I've worked for. He took my

(10:52):
knife and tested its sharpness, asking will she or will
she just expose what you've been afraid to face. Sometimes
our biggest fears are just shadows, Ella. They disappear when
we shine a light on them. A text message from
an unidentified number rang on my phone. It was a
screen grab of an email sent to possible investors, most
likely by Amelia. It went into detail regarding my family

(11:14):
problems and money irregularities. The pop up event, Marco said,
could be an opportunity show everyone Amelia, your family, these investors,
exactly who you are and what you can do. Or
it could be a trap. He grinned, Most likely both.
But you're not that scared girl from Christmas morning anymore.
You've learned more than just cooking techniques in my kitchen.

(11:37):
I reflected on the previous three months, including the cuts, burns,
and late hour spent honing recipes. With every minor triumph,
I developed something beyond my culinary abilities. What's that saying
you always use? I responded, The hottest fires make the
strongest steal. He gave a nod, and you, my dear,
are about to walk through fire. I grabbed up my

(11:58):
knife and started chopping again, making deliberate, accurate cuts. Amelia
believed she could exploit my past to ruin my future,
but she had overlooked the most crucial culinary rule. Time
is everything. Tell her I'm in. I responded for the
pop up event, but I'm doing it my way. Marco grinned, knowingly,
Now that sounds like a chef talking. At three in

(12:20):
the morning, Tessa sent the following text, can you meet me? Please?
Don't tell mom and dad. Her eyes were red and
swollen when I spotted her seated in her Volkswagen Beetle
outside Marco's restaurant. Her normally flawless hair was pulled back
in an untidy ponytail, and she had lost weight since Christmas.
She replied, I failed two classes as I got into

(12:40):
the passenger seat, and I just I can't tell them.
They think I'm applying to pre med programs, but I
haven't even started the applications. The quiet between us was
filled by the gentle hum of the heater. This vehicle
had represented every issue with our family's dynamic. It was
like a confession booth now, even though I already knew
the answer, I question and why pre med my personal nightmare,

(13:03):
Mom's backup plan, Dad's dream. She laughed, but her voice
sounded more like a sob. How do you do it? Lie?
Just walk away from their expectations. I reflected about Amelia's threats,
the lottery ticket concealed in my apartment, and all the
lies entangled in my purported bravery. I'm not sure I'm
the best person to ask about making good choices right now.

(13:24):
At least you made a choice. She reached into her
jacket and took out a crumpled piece of paper. I
found this in Mom's study. It was a list. My
movements were monitored, notes of folks she'd spoken to in town.
Tessa stated she is aware of the culinary school. I
felt sick to my stomach. Does she know about the money,
Not yet, but she's obsessed with figuring out how you're

(13:46):
paying for everything. She said, she thinks you're involved in
something illegal. Dad's talking about hiring a private investigator. I
didn't miss the irony. I had given them even more
justification to meddle in my affairs by attempting to break
free from the authority. There's more go on, Tessa. I
overheard Mom talking to Amelia Stone's mother at the country club.

(14:07):
They're planning something for that pop up event, some kind
of intervention or confrontation. They want to save you from
yourself or whatever. I bawled my hands into fists. Amelia
would involve our mothers. Of course, she was an expert
at twisting the knife whispering you should tell them the truth.
Tessa whispered about everything, like your telling them the truth

(14:28):
about pre med She winced, and I instantly felt bad
about what I had said. Both of us were imprisoned
in distinct iterations of the same cage. Maybe, Tessa said, hesitantly,
maybe we could help each other. I could come to
your pop up event, run interference with mom, and you
could help me figure out how to tell them about
changing my major to what photography, she confessed, displaying a

(14:51):
collection of gorgeous culinary photographs on her phone. I've been
practicing at restaurants around town. That's actually how I found
out where you were working. The photographs were stunning, capturing
the soul of each dish through the play of light
and shadow. Their strict, meticulous approach to everything was quite
different from our mothers. These are incredible tests, really, because

(15:12):
sometimes I think I'm just being stupid and selfish, throwing
away a real career for for something you love, I
said at the conclusion, Yeah, I know that feeling. We
were swept by the headlights of a passing automobile. I
briefly caught a glimpse of us as sisters, fleeing the
same darkness, but in opposite directions. I have to be
at the restaurant in three hours, I replied, Want to

(15:33):
come in. I could teach you some plating techniques, give
you something interesting to photograph. She grinned, but it wasn't
the flawless smile she gave our parents. I'd like that
I became aware that something had changed when we entered
Marco's kitchen. My quest for vengeance has evolved beyond simply
disproving my parents. It was about ending a cycle and
making room for Tessa and me to be different from

(15:55):
what our parents wanted us to be. I had to
make it through Amelia's pop up event first, though. The
stakes were bigger than ever now that we knew our
mothers were engaged. My future was no longer the only
consideration here. Tessa's was also at issue. I said hey
and gave her an apron. Want to learn how to
make mom's favorite dessert? I have some ideas for improving it,

(16:16):
Tessa smiled mischievously. Now that sounds like a photo opportunity.
Three days before the pop up event, everything began to
go wrong. While I was finishing up my menu in
Marco's kitchen, Tessa stormed in the back door with her
phone in her hand. She threw the screen at me
and said, you need to see this. It was a
gorgeously presented dish from Amelia's Instagram story that looked just

(16:37):
like my go to recipe, the one I had spent
months creating. A sneak peak of our upcoming showcase was
the caption the greatest inventions can occasionally be found in
unlikely locations. I wiped my trembling hands on my apron.
She's been watching me. Some one's been feeding her information.
After saying that's not all, Tessa swiped to another post.

(16:58):
It was a set of pictures taken at Amelia's restaurant
during a private investor meeting. One photo had my mother
sitting at the table with her face animated in discussion.
In the background, the cutting board clattered against the knife
I was holding. She's working with mom. I overheard them yesterday.
Tessa acknowledged. Mom's been telling potential investors about your unstable

(17:18):
behavior and questionable finances. They're trying to make sure no
one backs your restaurant plans. Marco showed up next to us,
looking serious. The health inspector just called. Someone filed multiple
complaints about our kitchen. They're coming tomorrow, right before your
big prep day. There was a reason for the timing.
Amelia was skilled at using my own mother as a

(17:39):
weapon to harm me. I clutched the edge of the
prep table as the room began to spin. I can't
do this, I said, maybe they're right. Maybe I'm in
over my head. Tessa's voice was stern as she said, no,
that's exactly what they want you to think. But look
at this. She showed me pictures she had taken during
our late night cooking sessions by pulling up her camera roll.

(18:01):
The photographs were breathtaking, showcasing not only the cuisine, but
also the love and imagination that went into each dish.
This is who you are, Eli Yah, not their lies,
not their manipulation. Marco, as he often did when he
was making a point, picked up my fallen knife and
tested its edge. You know what separates a good chef
from a great one. Not talent, not even creativity. It's

(18:24):
what they do when everything goes wrong. But she stole
my recipe. He gave me the knife and said, so
make a better one. Show them who you really are,
not who they think you are. As I gazed at
the knife in my palm, I recalled all the evenings
I had spent honing my cuts, all the burns and
scars I had acquired via perseverance rather than innate skill.

(18:44):
Amelia may have taken my recipe, but she was unable
to take away my enthusiasm. How skilled are you at
social media marketing, Tessa, I said gently. She smiled better
than Amelia. That's for sure good because I have an idea.
I looked across at Mark. Remember that fusion dish. We
talked about, the one that combines mom's traditional family recipe

(19:05):
with modern techniques. His face lit up with a smile
as he nodded. The one that's too risky, too controversial.
Exactly Amelia wants to play it safe, stick to stolen classics.
Let's give them something they can't copy, something that tells
our whole story. On a plate, I recreated my mother's
signature dish over the course of the following few hours,

(19:26):
changing every component. My childhood comfort food was transformed into
something fresh that evoked both tradition and defiance. Every step
was recorded by Tessa, who used her camera to record
the transition from the old to the new. Even Marco
appeared impressed when the last meal was prepared, his words,
this isn't just food, this is your declaration of independence.

(19:47):
Tessa captioned the pictures simply when she uploaded them. Some
recipes are passed down, others are transformed. Coming soon to
an Amelia Stone showcase event, The post went viral in
the local food community within a few hours. Amelia texted,
after making two calls, you're making a mistake. Back down now,
or everything comes out. About the money, about your family, everything.

(20:10):
For the first time that day, my hand was steady
as I handed Tessa and Marco the text. When I said,
let it come out. I'm done hiding. Marco gave a
nod of approval. Now you're cooking with fire. Tessa responded,
just promise me one thing, as she lowered her camera.
When you face them, all of them, let me be there.

(20:30):
Someone needs to document what happens when the Golden Child
and the black sheep finally stand together. Retaliation and self
promotion were no longer the exclusive goals of the pop
up event. It was about finally writing my own life
recipe and escaping all the ones that others had created
with the subtlety of a cooking fire. The pop up
events night arrived, other young cooks were vying for the

(20:51):
interest of possible investors. As I stood in Amelia's prep kitchen,
my burners were inexplicably becoming cold, and my station had
been accidentally positioned near to a drafty so service door
equipment issues, Amelia asked as she went past, her voice
brimming with fictitious worry. Such a shame, but then working
with subpar tools build's character, doesn't it. I tried not

(21:12):
to notice that she had placed my mother at a
prominent table right in front of me, so I focused
on my preparations. Evelyne Hawkins wore her critical face like
a crown as she sat there, like a queen at court.
Someone shouted ten minutes to first service. I grabbed for
my sauce with trembling hands, only to discover that the
container was empty. Only a few minutes ago I had
filled it and had turned my back looking for something.

(21:34):
Amelia produced a well known container. Oh this found it
by the sink, looked spoiled, so I tossed it health
and safety. You know, In a flash, three months of
labor were gone. Recalling Marco's remarks about maintaining control under duress,
I held my knife so tightly that my knuckles turned white. However,
this was deliberate devastation rather than merely pressure. La with

(21:58):
her camera in hand, Tessa showed up at my station.
Mom's talking to the investors. She's showing them something on
her phone. I felt sick to my stomach. I could
see my mother making impassioned gestures through the service window,
and the investor's expressions were getting serious as they turned
to face me with a shake of his head. One
of them got up and left. Tessa muttered, it's the

(22:19):
lottery ticket, they know. The room began to swirl. Every
cautious step I had taken toward freedom. Everything I had
created was falling apart. No financiers, no sauce. There is
no hope. Through my panic, a voice said, Chef Hawkins
Health Department, we need to discuss some concerning allegations about

(22:40):
your food handling practices. Naturally the icing on the cake.
I glanced around the kitchen, taking in my mother's contented grin,
Amelia's victorious smile, and the other chef's adamant avoidance of
eye contact. This was the feeling of complete defeat. I'm done,
I muttered, as I tied my apron. They win. Tessa
grot my arm and said, no, remember what you told

(23:03):
me about Mom's recipe about making it your own. So
your sauce is gone. Make something better, something they can't
steal or destroy. With what I have, nothing left She
took out her phone and showed me the picture she
had shot of our late night cooking sessions, saying, you
have me at the final picture, she paused. Marco and

(23:23):
I were in the kitchen, giggling as I tried a
failed dish that had unintentionally become something fantastic and completely different.
Marco had remarked that evening that sometimes the best dishes
come from disasters. I glanced at the essential elements that
were still there, at my almost empty station, at my
sister's resolute countenance, and then at my mother, who was
now approaching us with that well known look of disappointment. Lah,

(23:47):
she began, this has gone far enough. It's time to
You're right, I interrupted, grabbing my knife. It has gone
far enough. Tessa, start filming. Amelia shouted, what are you doing?
As I started slicing the few items I had left quickly.
I'm cooking, I declared, my knife, moving deliberately, but not
your way, or mom's way, or anyone else's way. My way.

(24:10):
The service was twenty minutes away, no sauce, no financiers,
no assistance, just my trembling hands in my sister's camera.
Maybe it was the intention but all I had planned
was in ruins. Perhaps in order to discover what I
truly needed, I had to let go of everything I
believed I desired. Last call for plating was said by someone.
I gazed at my creation, honest, straightforward, the product of

(24:34):
defiance and despair. It wasn't flawless. I hadn't even planned
for it, however, it was truly mine. With her camera
trained on my hands, Tessa questioned ready, I took the
first plate and nodded. I could see my mother and
the other investors wading through the service window. This was
my final opportunity to demonstrate that the greatest works can

(24:54):
occasionally emerge from the darkest situations. After saying time to serve,
I pushed through the door, and I hope they're hungry
for the truth. It was so quiet in the dining
room when I served my homemade dish. I observed the
investors leaning forward through Tessa's camera. Their face is changing
from doubt to interest. My mother's hands showed her anxiety
by twisting her napkin under the table, but her face

(25:16):
stayed purposefully expressionless. One investor examined the plate and remarked,
this isn't what was advertised. No, I concurred, it's better.
This is what happens when someone tries to sabotage your
carefully planned menu. You either give up or you create
something new. Amelia came out of the kitchen and I
met her gaze. I turned to Amelia and asked, would

(25:37):
you like to explain why my original sauce disappeared? Or
should we ask my mother about the convenient timing of
the health inspector's visit? My mother said sharply, Elle as
a warning. However, I wasn't done yet. It's funny, Mom,
I tried to replicate your recipes for years in an
attempt to win your approval. But tonight, when everything was
taken away, I finally got it. Real hunger produces the

(26:00):
best food for recognition as much as for food for approval.
Now that the investors were trying the meal, their appreciative
mutterings were becoming more audible, and Tessa walked around the
table recording their responses the way they nodded their heads
and raised their eyebrows at one another. The principal investor remarked,
the combination of traditional and modern techniques is unexpected. The

(26:22):
harmony of flavors. It narrates a tale. That's because it's
my narrative, I responded, the genuine one, not the one
they wanted to share. About creating something out of nothing,
about converting rejection into motivation. With her poise crumbling, Amelia
went forward and said, you think you're so special, A
tenacious underdog who no I said, I believe that I

(26:44):
am just what you fear, someone who no longer need
your approval, any one of you. I hadn't seen my
father since Christmas morning, so his arrival was a shock
to the room as he entered and stopped short at
the scene in front of him. What's happening, he insisted,
your daughter, the principal investors, is going to get an
offer of support for her restaurant idea, if she's interested,

(27:04):
that is. My father's expression changed from one of bewilderment
to something I had never seen before, perhaps recognition or regret.
The lottery ticket, He replied, softly, isn't that how you
accomplished all of this? The Christmas present you gave us,
I said, the one you never bothered to open, and
I said yes. Suddenly my mother got up and said,

(27:25):
you had no right to mom to what to want?
Something different than what you planned, I yelled, to be
successful without your consent. You should ask your golden child
how she feels about medical school, I said, gesturing to Tessa,
who was still shooting. Find out what she truly wants
to accomplish with her life. All eyes shifted to Tessa
and the room fell silent once again as she dropped

(27:48):
her camera her hands, calm despite her trembling voice. I
want to be a photographer, she said, and was going
to hire me to shoot for her restaurant's marketing. No
one is being hired by you. This was a publicity stunt,
Amelia yelled. The main investor stepped in and said, these
investors are very impressed, miss Hawkins, both with the food
and with how you handled unexpected challenges. My father came

(28:11):
up and reached into his jacket, taking out a wrinkled,
still unscratched scratch off ticket that I had given him
for Christmas. I don't know why, but I kept it,
he remarked, If it's okay with you, I'd like to
scratch it right now, perhaps because that was the last
thing you gave us before he cleared his throat, and
I would like to invest money in your restaurant, regardless
of its value. Hey, Roger, my mom objected. However, he

(28:35):
raised his hand and said, no, Evelyn, We've already caused
enough harm by attempting to dictate their lives. Take a
look at what Ella produced tonight despite all the odds
being against her. Take a look at Tessa's images. We
weren't afraid of these failures. They are artists. I think
we have some details to discuss, miss Hawkins, said the
principal investor, grinning and passing a business card across the

(28:57):
table every one of us. I looked at my my
father's unscratched ticket. After picking up the card, keep it,
I replied, Some gifts are worth more unopened. I was
too absorbed staring at my father's face when he finally
finally saw me, not as a letdown, but as a chef,
as myself to observe Amelia storming away, I turned to
the investors and said, so, let's talk about opening night.

(29:20):
The restaurant was packed, as it had been every night
since it opened, and I was standing in my own
kitchen six months after the pop up event, watching the
dinner service unfold through the pass the walls were covered
in Tessa's photos, which included candid candids of our family's
adventure as well as beautiful views of our hall mark dishes.
Marko entered with a familiar envelope. As the door slid open,

(29:41):
he handed it to me and said, special delivery. Found
this at my restaurant. Amelia's was the return address, and
there was only one page inside. Last week I shut
down my restaurant. It turns out that building success on
other people's formulas isn't worth much. You were correct, You
must be the one who is hungry. As I folded
the letter, I reflected on how somewhere down the line,

(30:04):
revenge had lost its appeal. Have you watched the special
to day? I nodded toward a meal that was waiting
at the pass. As I asked Marco, he grinned when
he saw my mother's famous recipe, modified but still hearty.
What was her reaction, she cried, I said, then spent
an hour telling me everything I'd done wrong, while secretly
eating every bite. I could see my family at their

(30:25):
usual table through the kitchen window. My mother sat straight
backed as usual, but her eyes kept wandering to the
kitchen with what appeared to be Pride, and my father
was showing Tessa something on her camera, presumably talking about
her upcoming gallery show. My line cook said, Chef, we
have a situation. At the kitchen entrance, I turned to
see a familiar face, Amelia, who appeared smaller and less assured.

(30:48):
She blurted out, I'm not here to cause trouble. I
just I wanted to know if prep cooks are still
being hired by you. I would have cherished this moment
of defeat six months ago, but now when I looked
at her, I saw part of myself that same hunger,
just focused in the wrong direction for too long. The
kitchen was silent, and everyone watched to see how I
would respond. I said, tomorrow morning, six a m. And

(31:10):
be on time. Additionally, this time, Amelia, bring your own recipes.
With a look of relief on her face, she nodded
and rushed out, You're not the same chef who burned
with revenge in my kitchen, Marco said, giving me a
shoulder squeeze. No, I said, I feel better now, Speaking
of which, I took out the lottery ticket that my
father had returned to me last week, stating that certain

(31:33):
presents needed to be completed. He had kept it unscratched
for months. Do you want to take the lead, I
extended an offer to Marco. Some things are worth more unscratched,
he said, shaking his head. Sometimes we learn more from
the wonder of what might have been than from knowledge.
I tucked the ticket under my chef's coat, where it
lay close to my heart, as a reminder of how
far I'd come. While the dinner rush was intensifying and

(31:55):
tickets were pouring in lay, Mom is criticizing your plating
once more. Tessa called from the dining room. Tell her
if she wants to reorganize my garnishes, she'll have to
put on an apron and do it herself, I said,
laughing and grabbing my knife. My mother surprised me by
showing up at the kitchen doorway a few moments later,
already rolling up her sleeves well. She remarked, would you

(32:18):
demonstrate for me how this updated version of my recipe functions.
I gave her an apron and watched as she tied
it using motions that were similar to mine. I learned
that some wounds heal slowly, but that they do especially
when they are seasoned with time, truth, and a little
bit of forgiveness. Making room at my station, I said, OK, Mom,
let me show you how hunger enhances the flavor of everything.

(32:41):
A cacophony of sizzling pans, clicking dishes, and calling tickets
filled the kitchen as it hummed around us. My rules,
my restaurant, and my family, the one I was born
into and the one I created are all mine, no
matter how imperfect. Additionally, an unscratched ticket in my chef's
coat served as a reminder that sometimes the finest form
of retaliation isn't providing cold food, but rather inviting your

(33:03):
adversaries to a warm table and teaching them how to
prepare meals for themselves. Now to the next story story too.
Inheriting Dad's house, losing Mom's love, how I uncovered her
true motive and built a life beyond the betrayal. When
Dad passed away and left me his house, Mom left me.
I overheard her telling her husband that she was only

(33:23):
doing it to get money from her parents, but she
later made an effort to set things right. Just a
few months before my eighteenth birthday, at the age of seventeen,
my life took an unexpected and excruciating turn. My father died.
He experienced a heart attack. He was there with us,
vibrant one minute, and then he was gone. The speed
at which everything changed is still difficult for me to comprehend.

(33:45):
No warnings were given, no time to prepare ourselves emotionally
or say our goodbyes. The most important person in my life,
my dad, was abruptly taken from me. We had a
very strong connection. I looked to him for guidance, solace,
and amusement. It was like losing a piece of my
soul when I lost him. My dad's lawyer brought the
family together to make his will public after his funeral,

(34:07):
while we were still in the cloud of mourning. Although
my dad wasn't particularly affluent, he had worked hard throughout
his life and had made wise investments. The lawyer revealed,
much to everyone's surprise, that he had essentially left everything
to me. He owned the family home, but it was
now in my name. I had the deeds to the
house signed by him. I didn't first completely understand the

(34:27):
significance of that, especially when I was still grieving his passing.
My mother was enraged. While I was still absorbing it.
She began screaming as soon as she learned that the
house was now legally mine, and she adamantly asked that
the lawyers show her the will so she could confirm it.
To put things in perspective, my parents marriage was among
the worst in history. My parents were always at odds,

(34:48):
and it wasn't like one of them was at fault
because they were both flawed. They had first married for love,
or at least that was how they explained it, but
any love they had had soon vanished as their disagreements widened.
Their love gave way to frustration and resentment. My parents
were both very focused on their careers. That really made
them farther distant from one another, despite your assumption that

(35:08):
it would bring them closer together. My dad's achievement was
too much for my mom to handle. This was because
she lost out on years of her work when she
decided to have a child. My dad never made her
make this decision. To be clear, my mother has expressed
to me on multiple occasions her uncertainty about having children.
She ultimately made the decision to become pregnant, nevertheless, since
she didn't want to look back and regret not having children,

(35:31):
But she soon discovered how much she detested it after
having me. My mother is a prime illustration of why
not every adult should be permitted to have children. She
would become upset with me for the tiniest things like
not tying my shoes properly or having trouble with my homework,
and I can still clearly remember those times. From the beginning.
She treated me like a burden. Even if I couldn't

(35:51):
really comprehend it as a child, I could sense her contempt.
I would witness other children with their mother's receiving warmth,
support and hugs, and gave me coldness and criticism. My
mother treated me badly because she was frustrated with her
own life. I couldn't help but feel like I was
in the way. Due to health problems and pregnancy complications,
my mom had to take a few years off from

(36:12):
her job after giving birth to me. She blamed me
for her inability to work, which she detested. My dad
was the one providing for the family at this period.
He believed that this would be the ideal chance for
my mother to connect with me, but it never did.
My mother chose to remain emotionally aloof throughout this time,
rather than attempting to connect with me, she would frequently
tell my dad and I that she wished I had

(36:34):
never been born because she wasn't suited to be a mother.
As a result, my dad would threaten to divorce her.
Throughout a number of arguments with her, my mother would
threaten to take me away from him as a form
of punishment for him abandoning her, rather than taking her
to see a psychiatrist. My mother was obviously unhappy with
the way things had gone, both in her marriage and
as a mother. My mom frequently left me alone without

(36:55):
any concern or attention by zoning out for hours, watching
TV at home or going out with her friends. She
made no attempt to hire a babysitter. I was left
to my own devices most of the time. During her
few visits, she made it apparent that she had no
interest in taking on the duties of a typical mother.
I don't recall her ever preparing a decent meal for me,
because she detested cooking. Pizza rolls, mac and cheese, and

(37:19):
other frozen foods that didn't require work made up the
majority of my diet. That was all I knew for
a long time. Since I was too little to understand
any better. I didn't mind at the time, but now
I see how neglected I was. It was more than
just missing home cooked meals or a good hug. The
most painful part was the emotional abandonment. I immediately discovered
that I should never complain to my mother about anything.

(37:41):
Every time I attempted to communicate my wants or sentiments,
it would backfire. She would reprimand me and act as
though I was solely to blame, never accepting responsibility or
making an effort to make things right. I found it
easier to suppress my emotions and keep her from getting upset.
I was always trying to avoid upsetting her, always trying
to blend in, and always walking on egg shells. I

(38:02):
was deeply scarred by the reality I had to live with.
Unlike my mother, I felt appreciated and seen by my father.
He was undoubtedly the best of the two, but I
wouldn't say he was the ideal parent. He had his
shortcomings too. He really liked hanging out with me, Unlike
my mom. He never gave me the impression that he
was acting out of duty. It made all the difference
because he truly cared about being in my life. As

(38:25):
I began to mature, our home underwent a transformation. In
the end, my mother returned to work, although she never
fully reclaimed the esteem position she had held before to
her leave. She detested having to rebuild her career after
feeling that she had already paid her dues and had
to start over. It wasn't any easier to be the
target of her hatred. Even though I could somewhat understand

(38:45):
her frustration losing years of professional advancement and feeling stuck
in her situation. I ended myself spending a lot of
time alone myself. After my mom started working again, I
would get home from school, prepare a basic lunch, and
complete my assignments. It became a habit, and to be honest,
by then, I was accustomed to getting by on my own.
I had essentially come to realize that I couldn't count

(39:07):
on my mother to provide me with much emotional or
physical support. My parents still tried, though my dad and
I would go out to supper together on some evenings.
My mother never came as though she were an outsider
in her own family. She maintained a distance from them.
My dad and I would discuss everything and everything. At
those dinners, I would tell him everything about my school life,

(39:28):
my friends, or whatever was on my mind, and he
would tell me about his job, occasionally the fascinating projects
he was working on, or office drama. Everything seemed regular
during those few hours. It was one of the few
times I didn't feel like an afterthought or a burden,
but rather like a daughter enjoying time with her father.
I truly treasure those times because they made me feel

(39:48):
safe and connected. My mom started a new job that
needed her to travel frequently when I turned fourteen. I
believe she saw the high paying job as an opportunity
to finally regain some of the professional success she had lost.
She chose to take the job without consulting my dad,
which resulted in one of the most heated arguments I've
ever seen between them. Although my dad didn't mind her working,

(40:08):
she would be gone for days at a time for
this job, which meant he would have to care for
me by himself. Their voices reverberated throughout the home as
I listened to them quarrel late into the night. I
was the primary point of disagreement. I detested that I
detested being the cause of so many of their arguments.
I went to my dad's study later and assured him
that I could take care of myself while he was

(40:29):
at work, and that he didn't have to worry about me.
I reasoned that perhaps my parents' relationship would improve if
I could only demonstrate that I wasn't a burden. I
recall the expression on his face when I said that,
guilt swept over him, as though he recognized that I
had been made to mature more quickly than I should have.
He drew me into an embrace. It was one of
those times when we both recognized the true dysfunction of

(40:50):
the situation without explicitly stating it. My mom started her
new job shortly after, and she started to go missing
for days at a time. The home was quieter, almost tranquil,
without her. It wasn't much better when she returned either.
When she did spoke to me, it was like she
was speaking to a complete stranger. Warmth and a sense
of belonging were lacking. She would return home fatigued, give

(41:12):
me a fleeting glance, and then either go back out
with her friends or go into her room. Despite the
fact that we were in the same room, she felt
very far away. I had learned not to expect much
from her by then, but it still hurt. My parents
marriage was essentially non existent by the time I was sixteen,
as though they were just housemates. They were sleeping in
separate bedrooms. If you're wondering why they didn't simply file

(41:34):
for divorce and move on, trust me, I asked myself
that question often. In actuality, I believed that they both
chose not to get a divorce because it was simpler
to continue living in this unhealthy, distant relationship than to
deal with the financial and legal complexities of separation when
it comes to alimony, legal bills, and arguing over child custody,
things that neither of them seemed to want to deal with.

(41:56):
Divorces may be extremely expensive. My schooling was the only
significant investment that my parents truly shared. Despite the fact
that they both made good money, they hardly spent any
money on me other than that. Other than the home expenditures.
They didn't have much money to divide. Because my dad
owned the house, they didn't have to quarrel over little matters.
They lived under the same roof, but had largely independent lives,

(42:18):
each with their own food and car. For my part.
I would receive money from my dad each week, which
would be plenty to pay for groceries and school lunches.
I didn't really anticipate much more, and while it wasn't much,
it was sufficient for me to handle. I had gotten
used to being in the background while they were preoccupied
with their own problems and grievances. As I approached my
seventeenth birthday, I made the decision to celebrate my birthday

(42:41):
in a way that was authentic for once. My birthday
had always been somewhat of a non event until that point,
unless I reminded him. My dad, bless him, had a
tendency to forget my birthday. He would try his best
to get me a cake once I did, and we
would either have a low key dinner or celebrate in
private at home. However, it was never more than the
two of us. I wanted something bigger this time. I

(43:03):
wanted to have a true party and invite my friends over.
To my surprise, my father concurred. He helped me organize
it and thought it was a terrific idea. Naturally, my
mother declined to go. She simply stated that she didn't
want to be part without even bothering to offer an explanation.
I honestly didn't give a damn. I had been emotionally
and physically accustomed to her absence by that time, so

(43:25):
I wasn't bothered by the idea that she wouldn't be present.
I finally received what I wanted for the first time
in my life, a birthday celebration filled with joy, laughing
and friends. It was ideal for me, but it wasn't ostentatious.
For for a second, I was truly joyful. I had
finally come to terms with the fact that my life
was what it was, flaws and all. However, that fleeting

(43:47):
moment of happiness was quickly eclipsed by tragedy, as if
the universe couldn't bear to see me pleased. It seemed unreal.
When my dad died, my mother still detested me, and
here I was only seventeen. Inheriting the home we shared,
she made it obvious how much she detested me, since
she couldn't accept that my dad had given me the house.
After the will reading was finished, she yelled at me

(44:08):
for hours, claiming that I had manipulated my dad throughout
the years and that she was the true owner. Then
she modified her strategy. She began attempting to persuade me
to put her name on the house's deed. Fortunately, my
dad's parents, my grandparents, defended me. They ensured that I
couldn't be influenced by my mother, since she was never
a decent wife to my dad when he was living.

(44:29):
They made it apparent to her that she didn't deserve
his house simply because he was dead. If she attempted
to compel me to alter the deed, they even threatened
to take her to court. My mother became enraged and
threatened to leave me. She claimed that because I was
self centered enough to refuse her the house, she intended
to prove to me that I couldn't live without her.
She seemed to be trying to convince me that I
couldn't support myself, as if losing her would also make

(44:51):
me realize how much I depended on her. My paternal
grandparents refused to give up. They promised to take care
of me in the event that my mother left. In
contrast to her, they promised to support me through anything,
not only until I was eighteen, but for the rest
of my life. My mom followed through on her threat
and left within two or three weeks after my dad's death.
My dad had loved and collected comic books for years,

(45:14):
but my mom threw out his whole collection before she
left the house. It was her last act of retaliation.
It is obvious that she did it out of spite,
in some perverse manner, to harm me, to destroy him,
and to hold me accountable for any resentment she may
have had inside. When I was nothing, She said I
would come crawling back to her in a few years,
at a time when I was already feeling totally lost.

(45:36):
Her words were poisonous and intended to tear me apart
even more. She left me as though I had no
significance to her. It was hard for me to comprehend
that she could leave so simply. So soon after my
father's passing. I felt as though I had lost both
of my parents in a matter of weeks, and the
burden was unbearable. As promised, my paternal grandparents moved in
with me. They made every effort to give me support

(45:57):
and stability during this period. My grandparents were calm, loving
people who understood how much I was in pain. They
set aside their own suffering to support me, despite the
fact that they were also hurting. I was simply trying
to get by day by day. In the meanwhile, my
mom's desertion made me feel even more alone, and I
was already grieving over the loss of my father. I

(46:18):
was unable to completely comprehend what was going on around me,
as if I were living in a fog. I made
myself get out of bed, get dressed, and go to
school every day. I knew I needed to complete my
education in order to be someone in my life, even
though I wanted to shut down entirely when I was
still in high school, I couldn't get my mother's words
out of my head. Without her, I would be nothing.

(46:39):
I vowed to myself that I would work hard and
make sure I succeeded for the rest of my life.
My maternal grandparents also made it a point to see
me often during this very trying period in my life.
They were incense that their daughter had left me after
my dad's death, and were just as astonished and horrified
by my mom's behavior as I was. They actually bore
a great deal of responsibility for it. I've put a

(47:00):
lot of effort into creating a life for myself over
the last five years. I persevered through it all, graduating
from college last year with honors cum laude and landing
a fantastic career in information technology. Being able to work
remotely has made the position an incredible opportunity given everything
I've been through. This flexibility has allowed me to travel
the world while still working, which feels like a dream

(47:22):
come true. I never imagined that I would be here
leading a life that seemed so full of possibilities, but
I managed to get through those difficult times somehow. The
house my dad left me has been a blessing in
more ways than I can list, and I still reside there.
I was able to save a substantial sum of money
that I would have otherwise spent on rent. In addition
to having stability during my time in college, I was

(47:43):
able to graduate from college debt free thanks to the
money my father gave me in some assistance from my
paternal grandparents. Since starting my career, I've been gradually making
the house more uniquely mined by remodeling each room. Every
improvement I make to the house makes me feel as
like I'm taking back and personalizing the space that has
so many memories, both happy and sad, even though they

(48:03):
have now returned to their own house. My paternal grandparents
still frequently visit me. We still have a close relationship
and I try to see them as much as I can.
They were there for me when I needed them most,
and for that I will always be thankful. In all
these years, my mother had never once gotten in touch
with me. I did get tidbits of information from cousins
on her side of the family, and based on what

(48:25):
I've heard, she has never felt bad about leaving me. Additionally,
rumors told me that she remarried and is currently leading
an opulent life with her new spouse. She finally got
what she had always desired, I guess, a life without
obligations and according to her own rules. My mother unexpectedly
contacted me last week for the first time in five years.
She began by sending an email. She most likely obtained

(48:48):
my email address from someone else or from my LinkedIn profile.
She mentioned in the email that she had missed connecting
with me over the years and that she wanted to communicate.
I felt nothing when I read her name in my email.
No sadness, no desire, no rage. I definitely would have
been desperate for her attention, clamoring for her approval and
seizing the opportunity to get back in touch. If this

(49:08):
had occurred five years prior, I would have done anything
to win her love back then. Now, though it was
like reading a stranger's email, I was not moved by
anything she said. I decided not to respond, since, if
nothing else, I was annoyed by her message. Then she
started phoning me all the time. She may have gotten
my number from one of my cousins, but I'm not
sure how. I received multiple voice mails from her. She

(49:32):
expressed in each one how much she would want to
meet and get back in touch. I disregarded each and
every one. I didn't need her to pull me back
to that dark place after years of mending and moving
on on my own. Then she texted me for a
long time last week. This one was unique. She expressed
her sincere guilt for what she had done and her
want to simply meet and offer her apology. She said

(49:52):
she wanted to make amends with me after giving it
some serious thought over the last few years. If I
claimed that after reading that message, I wasn't a lie intrigued,
I would be lying. She had never taken responsibility for
her acts before, but now she appeared to be doing
so for the first time. I wondered what had led
to this abrupt change of heart, but I wasn't prepared
to forgive her. Was she truly sorry? Was she serious?

(50:15):
Or was this just another self serving ruse to make
herself feel less guilty? I answered. When she called again,
I wanted to know what she truly wanted, because her
insistence was beginning to irritate me. After responding, I asked
her directly what she wanted from me. I instructed my
mother to talk rapidly and made it plain that I
would block her and finish the conversation within the next

(50:35):
five minutes if she didn't have anything important to say.
She frantically begged me not to interrupt her right away.
She said, I missed you, and now that I'm older,
I hate myself for everything I did. Her voice trembled.
She repeatedly apologized, telling me that she had finally come
to the realization of the seriousness of her acts, and
I could hear the desperation in her voice. She continued

(50:57):
by saying that while it was clear that she understood
if I didn't want to relationship with her, her true
desire was simply to meet with me. I wanted to
explain why I did what I did all those years ago.
She stated, as though there were some rationale for leaving
me out of the question. I couldn't resist laughing. She
had given me enough justifications to last a lifetime. I
informed her that I didn't need any closure from her,

(51:18):
because I had already come to terms with the situation
as it was. I didn't care, so I didn't need
to know why she did it. However, she insisted that
I at least join her for supper. She assured me
that she would never disturb me again if I didn't
agree with her, and that I could block her or go.
She was so desperate it was almost disturbing. I wasn't
comfortable with it. There was a strange feeling. Why now,

(51:40):
Why was she now so keen to make amends after
being silent for five years? Now? The same woman who
had cursed me and said I would be nothing had reappeared,
pleading for one opportunity to give an explanation. I couldn't
get rid of the thought that this abrupt change of
heart was about something else. Everything looked too premeditated, too abrupt,
as though she had a secret agenda. I smelled something fishy,

(52:02):
but I couldn't identify it. I chose to comply, even
though it was against my better judgment. I simply wanted
to find out the true purpose of this. I reluctantly
consented to join her in her new spouse for supper.
The meal was held at my mother's new home, and
I could tell right once that she was leading a
very different life. The home was extremely opulent, with pricey artwork,
sumptuous furniture, and sophisticated accents all over. Bill, her new spouse,

(52:26):
appeared sufficiently amiable and kind. We engaged in small talk
after his kind introduction, but the entire situation felt uneasy,
as if there were enormous unsaid tensions between us. As
I walked past the bedrooms during dinner to use the restroom,
I couldn't help but notice them. They seemed like they
were from a luxury catalog because of how exquisitely designed
they were. The pictures that lined the walls attracted my

(52:49):
attention even more, images of my mother and Bill grinning
together while visiting far flung places across the globe. They
appeared content and relaxed. I was saddened to see that
she never ever acted that way toward my Dad and me.
Her smile with us was unlike anything I had ever seen.
I was taken aback by the contrast, which evoked emotions
I had previously suppressed. I heard Bill and my mother

(53:11):
conversing in low tones as I was making my way
back from the restroom. Since they hadn't noticed me approaching,
I stopped and tried to listen to what they had
to say out of curiosity. My mother was telling Bill
how much she detested seeing me and how much I
reminded her of my father. At that point, I felt
sick to my stomach. Despite Bill's attempts to comfort her,
she persisted in moaning that she wished she could skip

(53:32):
the entire supper. I took out my phone on a
whim and began to record. I have no idea why,
although it might have been a reflex as if I
needed evidence of her true vileness. Perhaps I hoped to
see it later so I could completely comprehend what was
going on. In any case, I made a record. I
overheard my mother tell Bill that she would never have
gotten in touch with me if it weren't for her

(53:52):
folks insistence that she get back in touch. She continued
by saying that she detested her parents for pressuring her
to take this action, and that as as a result
of their circumstances, she was merely going through the motions
to insure her inheritance from them. Everything made sense when
she said those words and explained that this dinner and
the entire act were really a means to an end
for her. Now everything made clear. My mother hadn't become

(54:14):
morally upright overnight. She hadn't given it much thought, and
she most definitely didn't feel bad about leaving me All along.
My intuition had been correct. For a minute, I stood motionless,
my heart pounding. Her statement that she didn't want to
be doing this and that she detested being around me
struck a deeper chord than I had anticipated. Even though
I had a sneaking suspicion something wasn't right. She remained

(54:36):
the same self centered individual who only thought about herself
after all these years and everything. After turning off the recorder,
I left, She fell silent as soon as she spotted me.
I silently thanked Bill for supper and made my way
out the door, ignoring my mother's persistent cause, wondering why
I was going so suddenly. She later messaged me to
say that I had embarrassed her in front of her

(54:57):
husband and that I should just be more honest with
her because she is my after all. I haven't texted
her back because I'm so mad at her after hearing
my mother talk about it, is I wrong to have
left the table in the middle of dinner. First update,
I want to make it clear that I have always
accepted my mother for who she is, which is why
I didn't go straight to her in her home after
hearing what I did. To be honest, I wasn't overly

(55:19):
surprised by it. I was correct to suspect that she
had a hidden agenda from the beginning. In fact, I'm
happy I got to meet her and have that tape. Tomorrow,
I'm going to confront my maternal grandparents about it and
find out the truth. Second update. I told my maternal
grandparents everything when we met. They initially expressed a happy
surprise at my mother's desire to get back in touch

(55:40):
with me. However, their faces immediately changed when I played
the tape of her telling Bill that the inheritance was
her only motivation. While my grandmother apologized to me, my
grandfather appeared and raged. She admitted that they had been
talking about their inheritance lately, and that two months prior,
they had told my mother that they were too disappointed
in her for leaving me. Therefore they didn't want to

(56:00):
leave her anything. Rather, their older children would receive the bequest.
After my mother pleaded with them to change their minds,
my grandfather informed her that she may be named in
the will if she got back in touch with me.
She had chosen to contact me out of desperation. My
grandfather apologized awkwardly and said he felt it was a
wonderful idea at the time, but I shook my head

(56:21):
after all these years. He told me he thought my
mother had finally grown up, but he was obviously wrong.
I told him not to put the blame on himself,
but that my mother is merely self centered and that
he and my grandma should have known better. Fortunately, I
saw her ride away and wasn't duped. Rather than giving
my mother her portion of the fortune, my grandfather vowed
to give it to me instead. Third update, not even

(56:43):
a day after I spoke with my maternal grandparents, my
mother called and yelled at me. I knew this was
my opportunity to exact revenge on her and let everything out,
so I hadn't intentionally blocked her. She said I should
have spoken to her first, and screamed at me for
letting her see her parents. She threatened to destroy my
life and said I had no right to confront Grandpa.
Her remarks made me chuckle uncontrollably, and I forcefully informed

(57:05):
her that I was no longer the child she had
mistreated and left behind all those years prior. I inquired
as to if her husband was fully aware of the
type of woman she was, or if I ought to
give him a list of all the things she had
done to me over the years. At that she became quiet.
I assured her that I would not think twice about
publicly exposing her to all of our relatives and cousins
if needed, and that I still had the video from

(57:26):
the dinner where she admitted her true motivation. She changed
her mind and insisted that because she gave birth to me,
I should at least respect her as a parent and
not threaten her. After months of pain, I sneered and
told her that she had chosen to endure that, and
that she couldn't continue to blame me for it after
all these years, I said she had to leave my
life as soon as possible because I was tired of
her machinations. If not, I wouldn't think twice about ruining

(57:49):
her life by telling everyone the truth. Since then, I
have blocked her, and I doubt she would ever attempt
to get in touch with me again. Now to the
next story. Still three, after years of being the invisible
child in my family, my parents now pressure me to
care for my disabled brother. When I started packing and left,
my parents barely noticed. I was thirty three years old,

(58:12):
just out of graduate school, and ready to start my
own career. However, I wasn't surprised by it. I had
spent my entire life as the youngest of five children.
I mean significantly younger when I say youngest, Diana, the
next oldest is seven years older than I am. I'm
different from the rest in a lot more ways. In
our Massachusetts suburban home as a child, I occasionally felt

(58:33):
like a ghost walking down the hallway, with therapy appointments
recorded on many calendars, medication regimens displayed on the refrigerator,
and the incessant sound of someone in crisis. Our home
was always in a state of organized chaos. I was
left to handle this pandemonium by myself because my siblings
were constantly taking care of their own problems. You hear
of glass children, youngsters whose siblings demand so much attention

(58:55):
that they are ignored or become invisible. I guess I was.
Myldest brother. Austin needed ongoing care due to serious mental
health problems. Nathan battled addiction since he was a teenager.
Mason was in and out of specialized care institutions due
to a mix of mental and physical health issues. Diana
suffered from extreme anxiety and depression. Then came me, the oddball,

(59:17):
the one who didn't require anything. In primary school, I
recall working on my math assignment at the kitchen table
while my mother spoke with yet another doctor over Mason's illness.
Occasionally she would give me a quick glance, but her
thoughts were elsewhere. After dropping Nathan off at rehab, Dad
would arrive home late, too tired to inquire about my day.
It became the norm. The symphony of crises that was

(59:39):
my siblings' lives was drowned out by my accomplishments, my hardships,
and my very presence in retrospect, though I don't think
that was intentional. I wasn't prioritized. But I also can't
say that my early years were terrible. My bodily requirements
were satisfied. I had clothing, food, and shelter. However, I
didn't exist emotionally. No one asked how my day went

(01:00:01):
or whether I needed homework assistance. When relatives inquired about
all the children, I received the most attention in the
form of the occasional oh, Catherine's Fine. It was out
of necessity that I learned to amuse myself. My haven
was our finished basement. My most dependable companions turned out
to be video games. At least they recognized me and
gave me rewards for my efforts. Books offered a way

(01:00:23):
to enter imaginary realms where being normal wasn't a bad thing.
I used to lose myself in imaginary worlds. When Austin
was having another episode upstairs, Nathan was going through withdrawal
in his room, Mason was in the hospital again, and
Diana was in her therapy sessions. I guess it was
a survival strategy, although I didn't know at the time,
I remained anonymous while honing my self sufficiency skills. I

(01:00:46):
wasn't required to volunteer as a caregiver, unlike some others
who had ailing family members. All of that was handled
by my parents. By the time I was twelve, I
was able to prepare my own meals, not because I
was trained, but rather because occasionally people were too pre
occupied with the most recent catastrophe to remember to eat.
I taught myself how to manage my school calendar, wash

(01:01:06):
the laundry, and live a quiet life. School presented a
different kind of