I tapped the folder once.
“Ask me.
You’re twenty-four years old.
These are your tuition papers.
If you want my money, ask me yourself.”
Ryan glanced at Mom.
That glance told me more than anything he could have said.
Mom immediately stepped in.
“Why are you humiliating him?”
I almost laughed again, but this time I stopped myself.
There was the old reflex: make everything easier for everyone else, even while they were making me uncomfortable in my own home.
I let the silence stay.
Ryan finally looked at me.
“Fine.
Can you help pay my tuition?”
It was the first honest question anyone had asked all night.
So I gave him an honest answer.
“No.”
Mom inhaled sharply.
Dad leaned back.
Ryan blinked as if he genuinely hadn’t prepared for that word.
“No?”
“No.”
Mom pushed her chair away from the table just enough for the legs to scrape against my floor.
“Unbelievable.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because look around you!”
Her hand swept toward the dining room, the kitchen beyond it, the hallway with my unpacked boxes.
“You buy all this for yourself, and your brother is trying to build a future.”
There was something strange about hearing her describe my house as if I had purchased it instead of helping Ryan.
As if years of saving had not counted until she discovered another use for the money.
“This is my future too,” I said.
“You already have yours.”
“Because I built it.”
Ryan scoffed.
“Right.
We get it.
You’re perfect.”
“I never said that.”
“You act like I’ve never done anything.”
I looked at him.
He had quit two colleges, five jobs, and a certification program.
I could have listed every reason he had given us.
Toxic manager.
Unfair professor.
Bad schedule.
Wrong environment.
But I didn’t need to attack him to defend myself.
“I hope you go back to school,” I said.
“I hope you finish.
I mean that.
But wanting you to succeed doesn’t make me responsible for paying for it.”
Mom stared at me.
“Family helps family.”
“Dad already said that.”
