After I hung up the phone with the hospital administrator, I felt a strange sense of peace. For years, I had been the “emergency contact” for everything—flat tires, rent shortages, and broken appliances. I was always the safety net, but never the guest of honor.
An hour later, my phone began to blow up. It was Marcos.
“Mom! What did you tell the hospital?” he shouted the moment I picked up. “They said the bill is still outstanding and they won’t release the final discharge papers until it’s settled! Elena is crying, and her parents are furious!”
“Why are they furious, Marcos?” I asked calmly, sipping my tea. “Elena’s ‘immediate family’ is right there with her. Surely, between her mother, her father, and her two sisters, they can scrape together the money for the woman they love so much.”
“You know they don’t have that kind of money!” Marcos snapped. “You’re the one with the savings! You’re the grandmother!”
The Reality Check
“No, Marcos,” I interrupted. “Three days ago, you told me I wasn’t family. You told me I made her ‘nervous.’ You told me Elena never wanted me around. If I am a stranger who isn’t allowed to hold the baby I knitted a blanket for, then I am certainly a stranger who isn’t responsible for the bill.”
“Mom, please, it’s a medical emergency!”
“The emergency is that you chose a side, Marcos. You chose her family over the mother who raised you. Now, her family can choose to pay for the private room and the ‘complications’ they enjoyed while I was sitting in a bus station crying.”
I hung up.
The Aftermath
I didn’t block him, but I didn’t answer the next twenty calls.
A week later, I heard from a mutual friend that Elena’s parents had to take out a high-interest loan to cover the bill because the hospital threatened legal action. Marcos tried to come to my house to “talk,” but I had already left.
I took that $10,000 I had set aside for the baby’s college fund and I booked myself a luxury cruise. I realized that loyalty is a two-way street. If you lock the door when I bring a gift, don’t expect me to open my wallet when you bring a bill.
I still have that cream-colored blanket. I’m going to donate it to a local shelter for mothers who actually want a helping hand. As for my son, he finally learned that the “nervousness” Elena felt was nothing compared to the silence of a mother who has finally had enough.