I continued my routine. I got up at 6:00 in the morning. I prepared my coffee. I looked out the window at the streets of Dallas waking up. I went to school. I taught my classes. I came home. But something had changed in me. I walked straighter. I spoke more clearly. I smiled differently.
My co-workers noticed.
“Elellanena, you look good,” said Lucy, my friend and colleague of 30 years. “Different. What happened?”
“Nothing,” I replied. “I just let go of something that wasn’t for me anymore.”
She looked at me with those wise eyes that only women who have lived a lot have.
“It was your son, wasn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Maybe someday. Right now, I just want to live.”
And that’s what I did. For the first time in years, I lived for myself. But 3 days after that call, things started to get complicated. Holly called me. I saw her name on my phone screen, and my first instinct was not to answer, but something told me I should, that I should close this chapter completely.
“Hello,” I answered.
“Ellena.” Her voice was cold as ice. “I need to talk to you.”
“Hello, Holly. How are you?”
“How am I? I’m furious. Do you know what you just did?”
“I have an idea.”
“You denied money to your own son, your own family. Do you know we’re going to lose our house? Do you know Ethan is going to suffer because of your selfishness?”
I took a deep breath. The old Elellanena would have started to apologize, to explain herself, to justify herself, but that Elellanena no longer existed.
“Holly, did Robert tell you why I told him no?”
“He told me you refused to help him when he needed you most. That you told him to reap what he sowed. Very nice of you, by the way.”
“Did he tell you what happened two weeks ago at Ethan’s birthday?”
Silence.
“That was… that was a misunderstanding.”
“It wasn’t a misunderstanding, Holly. You yelled that either I left or you left. And my son chose. He closed the door in my face after I traveled 12 hours to see my grandson. So when he called me asking for money a week later, I decided enough was enough.”
“You are his mother. Mothers are supposed to forgive.”
“And sons are supposed to respect. But that didn’t happen, did it?”
“Look, Ellena.” Her tone changed. It softened artificially. “I know we’ve had our differences, and I’m sorry, truly, but this is bigger than our personal problems. This is about Ethan, your grandson. Are you really going to let him suffer?”
And there it was. The card I knew they would play. The child, my grandson, the guilt.
“Holly, if you’re in financial trouble, there are many options. You can sell the SUV. You can move to a smaller apartment. You can ask your parents for help. Who, as I understand it, have more resources than I do. But I am not going to be the bank you only turn to when everyone else has told you no.”
“I can’t believe how insensitive you are.”
“I’m not insensitive. I’m a woman who finally understood her worth.”
“Robert was right. You are manipulative. Always playing the victim.”
“If that makes you feel better, think it. But the answer is still no.”
“Then I hope you can live with this on your conscience. When your grandson is sleeping on the street, remember it was your fault.”
“Holly, my grandson is not going to sleep on the street. You two are going to solve this like adults. You are going to make difficult decisions. You are going to learn and maybe, just maybe, you are going to grow.”
“Go to hell, Ellena.”
She hung up. I stared at the phone. I expected to feel bad. I expected guilt to devour me, but it didn’t happen because I knew something they didn’t understand yet. Helping them with that money wasn’t going to solve anything. It was only going to delay the inevitable. It was only going to teach them that there would always be someone to rescue them from their bad decisions. And I could no longer be that person.
