The thought of owing that much the moment I stepped into the real world made me sick.
"Tuition is only six thousand. You can spend a sixth of that on sneakers for him, but you can't pay for my school?"
"Because you can't give him six thousand, you'd rather not give me anything either?"
"Mom, have you completely lost your mind?"
The tears came before I could stop them.
I grabbed a calculator and punched in numbers frantically, but every result only made it worse.
Money.
I had no money.
If I refused to take out loans, I'd have to work part-time through every summer, every winter break, every spare hour between classes.
Juggling coursework and earning enough to survive.
I wouldn't have a single moment in college to breathe, let alone enjoy myself.
No matter how I looked at it, it was hopeless.
But my mother had the money. She could afford my tuition. She just couldn't give me tuition without having an equal amount to hand my brother.
The scales wouldn't balance.
So she decided not to give me anything at all.
I broke down sobbing.
I grabbed her hand and begged for the tuition money.
Dorothy sighed, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
"Those thousand-dollar sneakers? I saved up two months of his allowance to buy them in one go. And don't I give you five hundred a month too?"
"You're both my children. Both of you are equally precious to me. I can't have your brother thinking I'm playing favorites."
She was still reciting the same fairness speech she always gave. But I wasn't a kid anymore, and I wasn't falling for it.
"Fair? That's a joke. My five hundred is supposed to cover an entire month of living expenses. His five hundred is pocket money on top of everything else. They're not even close to the same thing."
"Dad already gives him everything. My brother doesn't need your money."
"Dad already said it himself—whoever's name I carry, that's who's responsible for me. Why can't you just take care of me and only me?!"
My words lit a fuse. Mom exploded.
"Your father and his backward, superstitious nonsense! He's an irresponsible father. Both of you are my flesh and blood—how could I abandon one child just because of a last name?!"
"If I'd known you'd end up thinking this way, I should've had the first child take my name!"
That sentence drove into my chest like a spike.
"You think I wanted your name?" I shot back. "Taking the Sawyer name has been nothing but a curse."