“Isn’t it a little excessive to buy something like that with my son’s money?” my mother-in-law mocked with a condescending laugh.
I slowly looked up at her. “No. Especially considering it’s my card.”
The smile vanished from Carmen’s face immediately. My husband, Javier, who was putting away the groceries by the refrigerator, froze with a bottle of water in his hand.
It was Saturday morning, a little after eleven. We had just gotten back from the shopping mall. I had placed three shopping bags on the kitchen table, and Carmen, who had shown up unannounced about ten minutes earlier, immediately started inspecting everything I had bought.
She pulled a box out of one of the bags. Inside was a pair of leather ankle boots I had been eyeing for weeks. They had finally gone on sale, so I decided to buy them.
129 euros.
Hardly a fortune. But judging by Carmen’s expression, I had just created a major family scandal.
“129 euros for a pair of shoes?” she repeated, staring at the price tag. “Do you even realize how much money you spend?”
“Yes.”
“When I was your age, I would never have wasted that much money on something like this.”
I held out my hand.
“Would you please put the box back in the bag?”
She didn’t move.
Instead, she looked at Javier. “See? This is exactly what I’ve been talking to you about.” Javier frowned.
“Talking about what?” “That you two need to pay more attention to your spending.”
I gave a quiet laugh.
“Our spending?”
Carmen turned toward me.
“Don’t play with words. Javier works all week, and you go around buying 130-euro shoes.”
This time, I looked at my husband.
He slowly placed the bottle of water on the kitchen counter.
“Mom…”
“What? I’m only saying what everyone is thinking.”
“Who exactly is ‘everyone’?” I asked.
She ignored my question.
Instead, she reached into the bag again and pulled out the next item—a lightweight jacket I had bought for work. “And this? How much did this cost?”
“Carmen, put my things back.”
“Two hundred euros?”
“Ninety.”
She shook her head.
“Unbelievable.”
I could feel myself getting more irritated by the second, but I stayed calm.
This wasn’t the first time.
Ever since Javier and I got married, Carmen had developed a strange obsession with our finances.
If we went away for a weekend, she wanted to know how much the hotel had cost.
If we ordered food, she asked why we were “throwing money out the window.”
When we replaced our eleven-year-old sofa, she asked Javier whether it was really necessary for him to “give in to every one of my whims.”
But that morning, she went even further.
She picked up my handbag from the chair. “And this card?” she asked.
I froze.
She opened my wallet.
“Put that down. Now.”
Javier turned around.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
Carmen pulled out a bank card.
“I’m just trying to understand.”
I walked over and took the wallet out of her hands.
“There’s nothing you need to understand.”
“If my son is paying for it—”
“Your son isn’t paying for it.”
She smiled in disbelief.
“Of course.”
“Carmen, stop,” Javier interrupted.
But she kept going.
“You expect me to believe you’re buying all of this with your own money?”
For a few seconds, I simply stared at her.
Then I placed my wallet on the table.
“Yes.”
“Elena…”
“No. Since you’re so interested in discussing our finances, let’s discuss them.”
Javier closed his eyes for a moment.
He knew exactly what was coming.
Carmen, however, crossed her arms.
“Fine. Let’s talk about it.”
I took out my phone.
“The card you just pulled out of my wallet is linked to my personal bank account.”
She shrugged.
“So?”
“That’s the account my salary is paid into.”
Her expression changed slightly.
“What salary?”
I almost laughed.
“Mine.”
“I know you work, but…”
“But what?”
She fell silent.
And suddenly, I understood.
After all these years, Carmen had absolutely no idea how much I earned.
She had simply decided that Javier was financing our entire life.
“Did you seriously think your son paid for everything?”
“I never said that.”
Javier gave a dry laugh.
“Mom, you practically say it every week.”
She shot him an angry look.
“I’m only worried about you.”
“Then ask me before accusing Elena of something.”
Carmen put the shoe box back on the table.
“Fine. Then how much do you make?” she asked, looking at me.
I smiled.
“None of your business.”
“How convenient.”
“Exactly.”
She was about to respond, but Javier spoke first.
“Elena earns more than I do.”
Silence.
Carmen slowly turned toward her son.
“What?”
I looked at Javier.
I hadn’t asked him to tell her that, but now that he had, I certainly wasn’t going to deny it.
“She earns more than I do,” he repeated. “She has for almost two years.”
Carmen blinked.
“But…”
“And she pays half the mortgage, half the bills, and a large part of the groceries.”
I crossed my arms.
“Not to mention that most of the down payment for this house came from my savings.”
Carmen’s face tightened.
“Why has nobody ever told me this?”
This time, I couldn’t hold back my laugh.
“Because we’re not required to report our finances to you.”
“I’m his mother!”
“And I’m his wife. Yet somehow, I manage not to go digging through his wallet.”
Javier looked away, trying to hide a smile.
Carmen noticed.
“You think this is funny?”
“No. I just think you went too far this time.”
She pushed the shoe box toward me.
“Fine. I understand.”
She had only been trying to protect her son.
“From what?” I asked. “My shoes?”
“From people who take advantage of him.”
Every trace of a smile disappeared from my face.
“You think I’m taking advantage of your son?”
Carmen immediately realized she had crossed a line.
“That’s not exactly what I said…”
“Yes, it is.”
I picked up my shopping bags.
“And since we’re talking about people who take advantage of Javier, I have a question.”
Javier looked up sharply.
Carmen went slightly pale.
“What question?”
“Who paid the 600 euros for your new washing machine last month?”
She said nothing.
I already knew the answer.
So did Javier.
Carmen looked at her son.
“That was different.”
“Of course,” I replied. “When I spend 129 euros of my own money, I’m taking advantage of your son. But when he gives you 600 euros, somehow that’s completely different.”
“My washing machine broke!”
“I have no problem with Javier helping you.”
I paused.
“What I have a problem with is you coming into my home afterward, going through my shopping bags, and accusing me of living off your son’s money.”
Carmen didn’t answer.
Javier stepped closer to the table.
“Mom, Elena is right.”
Carmen looked at him, offended.
“Of course. Now you always take her side.”
“This isn’t about taking sides.”
He picked up the shoe box and handed it to me.
“It’s about respect.”
Carmen grabbed her handbag.
“Fine. I understand.”
She headed toward the front door.
Then she turned around one last time.
“But paying 129 euros for a pair of shoes is still ridiculous.”
I looked at my new ankle boots.
Then at her.
“Maybe.”
I smiled.
“But luckily, it’s my card.”
Javier burst out laughing.
And Carmen slammed the door behind her.