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A few minutes later, Esther’s phone rang again.
“It’s someone named Eric this time,” Jonathan said, lifting one eyebrow.
“Shit.” Esther put down the cumin and went into the living room. She grabbed the phone off the table. “Hey bro, what’s up?”
“Don’t give Mom any more money this month,” her brother said.
Esther sent her mother five hundred dollars out of her paycheck every month. That, combined with whatever her mother made temping part time and selling essential oils and wellness products through one of those multilevel marketing schemes, was all she had to live off. In other words, not much.
“Why?” Esther asked.
“Did she already ask you for it?”
“She tried to call a few minutes ago, but I haven’t listened to the voicemail yet.”
“She’s going to ask for more money. Don’t give it to her.”
“What happened?”
Jonathan looked up and gestured at the door, offering to leave. Esther waved for him to stay and wandered into the kitchen.
“The usual,” Eric said. “This time it was Fiestaware on eBay.”
Their mom was a shopping addict. Nothing as extreme as the people on My Strange Addiction, but she did have a tendency to impulse buy more than her monthly budget allowed. She’d grown up with money and married money, but two divorces later, she was living on a limited budget without the skills to cope. She kept trying to live like she was still married to a successful orthodontist, even though that hadn’t been her life for fifteen years.
“How bad is it?” Esther asked, stirring the cumin into the chili.
“Two hundred dollars and change.”
“Fuck.”
“She’s gonna tell you she needs the money for utilities or groceries or something. But it’s really for the Fiestaware.”
“Okay, but can she pay her utilities? We can’t just let her starve or whatever.”
“She’s not going to starve. What she’s gonna have to do is return the fucking plates. Don’t give in to her sob story, sis. It just enables her.”
Eric was Esther’s older brother. He and his wife, Heather, lived in Seattle with their two-year-old son, Gabriel. Eric sold medical equipment to hospitals and doctors’ offices, and Heather was a preschool teacher. They couldn’t afford to support Esther’s mother on top of all their own bills, but Eric made up for it by taking point on all her crises. It was part of the bargain Esther and Eric had made: he provided physical and emotional support to their mother locally, and Esther provided financial support long distance.
“Fine,” Esther said. She peeked into the living room at Jonathan. He was typing on his laptop, politely pretending not to listen.
“It’s the right thing to do,” Eric said.
“I know.” She hated having to say no to her mother. She hated even more that her mother was constantly putting her in the position of having to say no. “How’s my nephew?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Mouthy, like his aunt.”
Esther smiled. “Good.”
“I gotta go get his dinner ready. Mom’s gonna be fine. Don’t give in.”
“Okay. Give Gabe a kiss for me.”
“Will do.”
Esther ended the call and deleted the voicemail from her mom unheard. She’d call her back tomorrow, after she’d properly girded herself for it. Something like this came up every few weeks. It was practically the only conversation she ever had with her mother.
“Sorry, that was my brother,” she said, going back into the living room.
