My mom quickly put the coat away in the closet and never wore it again. Last year, when we renovated the house, my parents chose good-quality, affordable local tiles.
When Virginia heard about it, she came over and tapped the floor with her heel. “These tiles crack easily. We use imported ones; one tile from ours could cover several square meters of your house.”
As she turned to leave, her handbag “accidentally” hit a metal bucket in the corner, spilling white paint all over the floor.
She just said, “Why leave things lying around like this? It looks like a dump.” Then she wiped her shoe with a tissue and left.
My father quietly crouched down and slowly cleaned it up with a small shovel. I once confronted them about it.
Why did they say such hurtful things? Why did we always have to endure it? My parents immediately started lecturing me.
“They’re family. We see them all the time.”
“That’s just how they are. Their words are harsh, but they don’t mean any harm.”
“What do you know, kid? Don’t meddle in adults’ business!”
I used to put up with it, too. But today, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The frustration I’d bottled up for years was finally boiling over.
Just then, Virginia finally spoke. “Actually, my son passed the exam this year and got a job at the city’s finance bureau; it’s a top place!” She lifted her chin, looking very proud.
Madison quickly jumped in, talking fast as if she didn’t want anyone to cut her off.
“What a joke! My daughter makes over $1,400 a month. She even bought a white Mercedes this month. For her, that’s just half a year’s salary; no big deal.”
I laughed and said, “Aunt Virginia, the interview list for this year’s provincial civil service exam came out two days ago. I checked it; there’s no one with a surname Gildon listed for any job in the city’s Finance Bureau. My cousin’s name isn’t there at all… unless he changed his last name.”
The table went silent. Virginia’s face turned red, then pale.
I looked at Madison and said, “Aunt Madison, that white Mercedes my cousin showed on WhatsApp; was it an A180? Last month, my classmate and I saw the same model at a used car market. It was nine years old with 170,000 kilometers, priced at $2,500 and still negotiable. So that’s what counts as half a year’s salary for my cousin. That’s quite high.”