“We Gave Your Ticket to My Mom – The Grandkids Love Her More.” Just Moments Later…

A Cold War Reaches the Screen

I hung up. My heart beat evenly. My hands didn’t tremble. I felt a strange lightness as if I had thrown a backpack of stones off my shoulders that I had been dragging for years.

They were there on the beach devouring each other like spiders in a jar and I was here in silence drinking tea and planning tomorrow. And in this plan there was none of them.

I went to bed but sleep didn’t come. Not because of conscience; it was cleaner than ever. Just adrenaline, the same kind that drove me forward all the years of building a career, was bubbling in my blood again.

I knew the morning show would be even more interesting. Did they stay on the beach? Of course not.

Pride is pride but mosquitoes and dampness quickly knock the arrogance out of you. They found the cheapest motel in the airport area—a dirty flop house with a fan instead of air conditioning and roaches the size of a finger.

I found out about this because Sterling sent me a photo of their dinner: styrofoam cups with hot water and instant noodles. In the background on a sagging cot sat Odessa with the expression of a deposed empress.

In the morning at exactly 9:00 a.m. my phone rang. Video call. Sterling.

I accepted the call. I was sitting in my favorite armchair in a silk robe with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Light jazz music was playing in the background.

On the phone screen appeared a picture that would make any maternal heart tremble. Any but not mine. Not today.

Sterling looked terrible—unshaven, with bags under his eyes, in the same wrinkled shirt. Next to him squeezing into the frame sat Valencia. Her face was swollen from tears but her eyes burned with an angry determined fire.

Valencia began, not even saying hello. Her voice trembled but she tried to keep her composure. “Miss Ulalia, we need to talk seriously. Without emotions.”

“I’m listening.” I said, taking a sip of coffee demonstratively enjoying the aroma.

Valencia jerked the camera showing the room: peeling walls, a dirty floor, a narrow window with bars. “Look at this! These are inhumane conditions! The children are sleeping on one mattress with us! Cairo has a rash from bites! Do you understand what you are doing? You are not punishing us. You are punishing your grandchildren!”

I answered calmly, “I am not punishing anyone, Valencia. I simply stopped paying for your banquet. You are adults. You chose to fly without me yourselves. You decided who would fly yourselves. Now you are deciding where to live yourselves. This is called responsibility.”

She shrieked, losing control, “Responsibility? This is cruelty! You are a sadist! How can you be so heartless? We are family!”

The Expense Report

I put the cup on the table. The clink of porcelain against wood sounded like a gunshot.

“Family? Valencia, let’s talk about math. I love numbers. They, unlike you, never lie.”

I took a notepad from the table in which I made notes last night. “I calculated here,” I continued looking straight into the camera into her dilated pupils. “Over the last 10 years I invested $2 million in your family. Apartment, cars, vacations, clothes, kids’ tuition, Sterling’s business. 2 million.”

Sterling pulled his head into his shoulders. Valencia opened her mouth but I didn’t let her get a word in.

“In the investment world, Valencia, this is called a loss-making asset. I invested hoping for dividends. Not in money, no. In respect, in love, in care. And what did I get? ‘We gave your ticket to mama.’ Zero yield. Total default.”

Valencia interrupted, “It’s all money! You measure everything in money! What about feelings?”

I chuckled. “Feelings? Okay, let’s talk about feelings and your care. Sterling, do you remember that account we opened 3 years ago? The ‘rainy day fund.’ You transferred $500 there every month from the money I gave you for development.”

Sterling blinked. “Well yeah. It’s untouchable. For the kids’ college.”

I said, “Untouchable you say?”

I shifted my gaze to Valencia. She suddenly went so pale she began blending with the peeling wall of the motel.

“Valencia, maybe you can tell your husband where that fund is right now?”

She babbled, looking away, “I… I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t understand?” I took another sheet of paper. “Bank statement. Last transaction two weeks ago: $4,000, Louis Vuitton store, Lenox Square.”

Silence hung in the motel room. Even through the screen I felt the air thicken. Sterling slowly turned his head toward his wife. His voice was quiet, terrifying.

“Valencia, you took money from the kids’ account?”

She began backing away, bumping into the iron bed. “I… Sterling listen. I just borrowed it. I needed status. You want me to look dignified yourself! I wanted to buy those suitcases so we would fly to the Maldives beautifully!”

Sterling jumped up. “Suitcases? You bought suitcases with college money? The very suitcases that are lying in this hole right now?”

She screamed, “It was an investment in our image!”

Sterling grabbed his hair. “Image? We are eating ramen and you have suitcases worth five grand!”

Valencia went on the counterattack like a cornered rat. “And you? You haven’t earned a single dime yourself! You live on mommy’s handouts! You’re a gigolo, Sterling!”

Sterling yelled, “I’m a gigolo? Why you—”

The Founders Initiative

I watched this with the cold curiosity of an entomologist. The masks were torn off. The loving wife turned out to be a thief. The caring mother spent the children’s future on rags.

And my son. My son finally saw who he was sharing a bed with. “Stop it,” I said quietly, but they fell silent.

I addressed my son, “Sterling, now you know the truth. Your wife steals from you. Your mother-in-law despises you. And I… I am closing up shop. I am cancelling all powers of attorney. I am closing all accounts. No more infusions. Survive on your own.”

Sterling rushed to the phone, his face distorted with despair. “Mama wait! I’ll divorce her! I’ll fix everything! Just get us out of here!”

I answered, “Whether you divorce or not is your business. But I won’t give money. You have hands, feet, and a head. Come up with something. You are a businessman.”

I reached for the end call button. “And one more thing, Sterling. Finally ask Valencia where the rest of the sum is. There should have been more than the suitcases cost.”

Valencia froze. Her gaze darted to the corner of the room where on a chair covered with a newspaper Odessa sat. The same Odessa who was now suspiciously quietly chewing a sandwich trying not to attract attention.

Valencia whispered, “Mama? You said you needed money for… for teeth.”

Odessa choked. I pressed end call. The screen went dark. I leaned back in the armchair.

The puzzle came together. Valencia stole from Sterling and me, and Odessa stole from Valencia. A cycle of parasitism in nature. And I had just cut off their oxygen.

Now they would start eating each other for real. I didn’t even have time to finish my coffee before my phone came to life again. But this time it wasn’t a call.

It was a notification from Julian. “Miss Vaughn, they went for broke. Check YouTube. Link attached.”