“People with your income don’t buy furniture like this,” my mother-in-law remarked, slowly running her hand along the back of our new sofa. I smiled.
“People who don’t know how much we earn usually don’t make conclusions like that either.” Carmen immediately pulled her hand away from the sofa as if she had suddenly burned herself. My husband, Javier, who was setting glasses on the dining table, froze. His sister, Lucía, sitting in one of the new armchairs, looked up sharply.
“Excuse me?” Carmen asked.
“I’m just saying that you don’t know how much we earn,” I replied calmly. “So I’m surprised you seem to know exactly what kind of furniture we can afford.” For several seconds, nobody said a word.
It was Sunday, a little after four in the afternoon. Javier and I had been married for almost six years, and we had just finished renovating our living room. We hadn’t done anything extravagant: we painted the walls, replaced the curtains, and finally got rid of the furniture we’d had since we first moved in together.
Our old sofa had survived two moves, a burst pipe, and years of dinners eaten in front of the television. One of its legs was being held up by a block of wood Javier had wedged underneath it a few months earlier.
So we decided it was finally time to replace it.
We bought a large olive-green sofa, two light-colored armchairs, a wooden coffee table, and a floor lamp.
We had saved for months and paid for everything without borrowing a single euro.
Carmen knew none of that.
And apparently, she wasn’t interested in finding out.
That afternoon, she had come over for coffee with Lucía. The moment she stepped into the living room, she began examining everything.
First the curtains.
Then the lamp.
Then the table.
Finally, the sofa.
“Everything is new,” she said.
“Almost everything,” Javier replied.
“And how much did it cost?”
Javier glanced at me. I continued pouring the coffee.
“Enough,” I said.
Carmen frowned.
“How secretive.”
“It’s not a secret. I just don’t usually discuss the price of our furniture.”
Lucía smiled faintly.
“I like the sofa. It’s beautiful.”
“Of course it is,” Carmen replied. “It probably cost a fortune.”
She sat down and pressed her palm against the seat cushion.
“Some expensive brand?”
“No,” Javier said.
“How much was it?”
“Mom…”
“I’m only asking.”
“And I’m only saying it doesn’t matter.”
Carmen stared at him for a few seconds, then turned toward me.
“I suppose you chose it.”
“We chose it together.”
“Right.”
That one word made me look up.
I knew that tone far too well.
Carmen took a sip of coffee.
“Sometimes people need to be realistic about the standard of living they can actually afford.” Javier put the glasses down on the table a little harder than necessary. “Mom, don’t start.”
“What did I say?”
“You know exactly what you said.”
Carmen raised one hand.
“I’m not criticizing you. I just don’t understand this obsession people have nowadays with trying to look wealthier than they really are.”
“Trying to look like we have what?” I asked.
“Well… like you can afford more than you actually can.”
Lucía lowered her eyes to her cup.
I put the coffee pot down.
“And what exactly do you think we’re pretending?”
Carmen gestured broadly around the living room.
“This.”
“What exactly?”
“Everything. The sofa, the armchairs, this table, the lamp… Even the television looks new.”
“It’s four years old,” Javier said. “That’s beside the point. You know what I mean.”
No.
Actually, I wanted her to say exactly what she meant.
“No,” I replied. “Explain it.”
Carmen sighed.
“Elena, you don’t need to get defensive immediately.”
“I’m not being defensive.”
“Then don’t turn a simple comment into a drama.”
She took a cookie from the plate.
“I’m just saying that people with your income don’t buy furniture like this.”
That was when I smiled.
“People who don’t know how much we earn usually don’t make conclusions like that either.”
The room instantly went silent.
Carmen put the cookie back on the plate.
“I know roughly how much my son earns.”
Javier gave a short laugh.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“How much do I earn?”
Carmen blinked.
“I don’t need to give you an exact number.” “Then give me a rough number.”
“Javier, don’t be childish.”
“You just said you know how much I earn.”
“This isn’t an interrogation.”
“No. We’re just trying to figure out how you calculated that we can’t afford this sofa.”
Lucía hid her smile behind her cup.
Carmen noticed.
“And what are you laughing at?”
“Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Mom, leave her alone,” Javier said.
Carmen turned back to me.
“Even if I don’t know the exact amount, I do know that Elena works from home.”
There it was.
We had finally reached the real issue.
“And what does that mean?” I asked.
“Nothing bad.”
“Then explain.”
“Well… working from home isn’t exactly the same as having a proper job at a company.”
Javier closed his eyes for a moment.
“Mom…”
But I raised my hand.
“No. I want to hear this.”
Carmen leaned back in the armchair.
“Don’t twist my words. I’m only saying that I’ve never really understood what you do.” “That’s true.”
“One day you talk about clients, another day about projects…”
“Because I have clients and projects.”
“But you’re always at home.”
“My computer is always at home too. It still works.”
Lucía burst out laughing.
Carmen shot her a sharp look.
“Elena, you know exactly what I mean.”
“Yes. You think that because I work from home, I don’t earn much.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Not in those exact words.”
Javier sat down beside me.
“Mom, Elena earns more than I do.”
Carmen went completely still.
Lucía raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” Javier replied. “Javier…” I said, looking at him. “What? If we’re discussing our finances in front of everyone now…”Carmen laughed in disbelief.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Javier looked directly at her.
“I’m not being ridiculous.”
“But she works from the bedroom!”
“The home office,” I corrected.
“Fine. From home.”
“So?”
“Well…” For the first time that afternoon, Carmen seemed to have run out of words.
Javier continued.
“Last year, Elena earned about thirty percent more than I did.”
Carmen opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
She looked at the sofa.
Then at me.
“You never told me that.”
“You never asked,” I replied.
“Yes, I did.”
“No. You made assumptions.”
Lucía put her cup down. “She’s right, Mom.” “Nobody asked you.”
“Maybe not, but I’m sitting here listening to all of this.”
Carmen turned to Javier.
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
Even I was surprised by the question.
“Why would it bother me?” Javier asked.
“That your wife earns more than you.”
Javier looked at her as if she had suddenly started speaking another language.
“Why would that bother me?”
“I don’t know… Some men…”
“I’m not ‘some men.’”
He gestured around the living room.
“See all this? We bought it together. You know what actually bothers me? That you walk into our home and decide how much money we have based on things you simply make up.”
Carmen’s expression became serious.
“I’m only worried about you.”
“Then worry by asking questions instead of making accusations.”
She fell silent.
I thought the conversation was over. I was wrong. A few minutes later, while we were cutting the cake, Carmen looked at the coffee table again.
“Fine. Even if you earn good money, I still think spending so much on furniture is unnecessary.”
I took a deep breath.
“How much do you think we spent?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then we’re exactly where we started.”
Lucía started laughing.
This time she didn’t even try to hide it.
“Mom, you’re digging yourself deeper and deeper.”
“I’m not digging anything.”
“Yes, you are,” Javier said. “And you’re getting pretty deep.” Carmen crossed her arms. “Very funny.”
I walked over to the small cabinet by the window, opened a drawer, and took out a folder.
Javier looked at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing dramatic.”
I pulled out a receipt and placed it on the table in front of Carmen.
“Here.”
She looked down at the paper.
“What’s this?”
“The furniture receipt.”
“I don’t need to see it.”
“Ten minutes ago, you wanted to know how much everything cost.”
“I was only asking.”
“Now you can see for yourself.”
Carmen hesitated, but eventually picked up the receipt.
Her eyes moved to the total.
She frowned.
Then she read the number again.
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“But…” “We bought everything during a sale, and we negotiated a discount on the delivery fee,” I explained. “We also sold our old furniture. The money from that covered part of the cost.”
Carmen put the receipt back on the table.
“I thought it was much more expensive.”
“That has been the problem all afternoon,” I replied. “You’ve thought a lot of things without actually knowing the truth.”
Lucía covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud.
Javier looked away, but I could see he was smiling too.
Carmen stood up.
“Fine. Apparently everything I say is wrong today.”
“Not everything,” I replied.
She turned toward me.
“Only the things you state as facts when you don’t even know whether they’re true.”
Her expression changed.
She no longer looked angry.
She looked uncomfortable.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I know. But when you come into our home and declare that we’re living beyond our means, you’re judging our work, our abilities, and our finances.”
Carmen picked up her handbag.
“I was only worried that Javier was paying for things he couldn’t really afford.”
Javier slowly exhaled. “Mom, you just did it again.” “What?”
“You said ‘Javier.’ Not ‘you two.’”
Carmen looked at him.
“Because you’re my son.”
“Yes. But this is our home. Our money. Our decisions.”
Carmen didn’t answer.
Lucía stood up too. Before leaving, she walked over to the sofa and ran her hand along the backrest one more time.
“I still say it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I replied. Carmen was already by the door when she turned around once more.
“By the way… do you really earn more than Javier?”
I smiled.
“Carmen.”
“What?”
“I thought we learned something today.” Lucía burst out laughing. Javier opened the door.
Eventually, even Carmen smiled, although not particularly enthusiastically.
After they left, I closed the door and returned to the living room.
Javier was standing in front of our now-famous sofa.
“You know what the worst part is?” he asked.
“What?” He sat down and patted the cushion twice
“Now my mother probably thinks this sofa is cheap.”
I sat beside him.
“Perfect.”
“Why?”
“Because maybe next time she’ll ask first before deciding how much our things are worth.”
Javier smiled.
“And if she doesn’t?”
I looked toward the front door.
“Then next time, I won’t show her the receipt.”
“What will you show her?”
I picked up my coffee cup.
“The door.”