“You’re leaving my son without a penny!” my mother-in-law burst out, slamming her palm on the table. “You spend everything he earns!” I slowly looked up.
Carmen was sitting across from me in our kitchen, arms folded over her chest, wearing such an outraged expression that anyone would have thought she had just uncovered a multimillion-dollar fraud. Beside her sat my husband, Javier. And, as almost always happened whenever his mother started an argument, he was staring intently into his coffee cup.
It was Sunday.
We had invited Carmen over for lunch because Javier had been saying for weeks that he barely got to see his mother anymore.
I had made roast chicken, potatoes, salad, and apple pie. After lunch, while we were clearing the table, Javier casually mentioned that we had finally bought a new washing machine.
The old one was almost twelve years old and had been making horrible noises during the spin cycle for months.
That was all it took. “A new washing machine?” Carmen asked. “How much did it cost?”
Javier made the mistake of answering. “Seven hundred and eighty euros.”
Carmen nearly dropped her fork.
“Seven hundred and eighty?!”
“Mom, the old one was falling apart.”
“You could have bought two washing machines for that!”
I said nothing.
I simply continued clearing the plates.
But Carmen was nowhere near finished.
“Of course, Elena always has to have the best…”
I turned around.
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“No, Carmen. Go ahead. Say what you mean.”
She shrugged.
“I’m just saying that Javier spends a lot more money since he’s been with you.”
Javier lifted his head.
“Mom…”
“What? It’s true. He used to know how to save. Now it’s an almost eight-hundred-euro washing machine, a new sofa last year, vacations, restaurants…”
I stared at her in surprise.
“Do you keep a record of our expenses?”
“I don’t need to. Anyone can see it.”
“Interesting. You seem remarkably well informed about everything we buy.”
Carmen ignored the comment.
“My son works very hard. I don’t think it’s normal that every cent he earns simply disappears.”
This time, I put down the plate I was holding.
“Where exactly does it disappear to?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean.”
“No. Explain it to me.”
There was silence for a few seconds.
Javier sighed.
“Elena, leave it.”
That only irritated me more.
“No. I want to hear this.”
Carmen leaned forward.
“Ever since Javier has been with you, he never has money for anything.”
I simply stared at her.
“Anything?”
“Exactly.”
“How strange.”
“What’s strange about it?”
“That you apparently know exactly how much money your son has.”
Carmen frowned.
“I’m his mother.”
“And I’m his wife. Yet I don’t monitor every euro he spends.”
“Don’t change the subject!”
Her voice was much louder now.
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are! Because you know I’m right. You’re leaving my son without a penny!”
The kitchen fell completely silent.
Javier closed his eyes for a moment.
“Mom, enough.”
But Carmen kept going.
“No, it’s not enough! Someone finally has to tell her. My son works to support this household while she buys whatever she feels like.”
Something inside me snapped.
Not because she had insulted me.
That had happened before.
But because this particular accusation was so ridiculous.
“Do you really want to talk about who lives off Javier’s money?” I asked.
Carmen looked at me defiantly.
“Of course.”
“Great.”
I sat back down.
“Then let’s talk about it.”
Javier immediately looked at me.
“Elena…”
“No, Javier. Your mother wants to talk about money. So let’s talk about money.”
Carmen smiled.
She seemed convinced she had already won the argument.
“I’m listening.”
“We both paid for the washing machine.”
Her smile faded slightly.
“That’s what you say.”
I stared at her for a few seconds.
Then I stood up, went into the living room, and came back with my laptop.
“What are you doing?” Javier asked.
“Clearing things up.”
I opened my banking app.
“I transferred four hundred euros toward the washing machine. Javier paid the rest.”
I turned the screen toward Carmen.
She barely glanced at it.
“That proves nothing.”
“Fine. The sofa you mentioned earlier? I paid for it.”
“You?”
“Yes. From my own salary.”
“Well, but…”
“And last summer’s vacation was split fifty-fifty.”
Carmen pressed her lips together.
“That’s not what we’re talking about.”
I couldn’t help laughing.
“Thirty seconds ago, that was exactly what we were talking about.”
Javier shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Okay, ladies, that’s enough.”
We both looked at him.
“We’re not ‘ladies,’ Javier,” I said. “Your mother just accused me of living off you.”
Carmen snorted.
“Because that’s exactly what it looks like.”
“Then perhaps we should talk about what it looks like from my side.”
Her expression changed.
“What are you trying to say?”
I closed the laptop.
I didn’t need the screen anymore.
“I’m saying that over the past eight months, Javier has paid your electricity bill four times.”
Carmen froze.
Javier looked at me.
“Elena…”
“And he paid for your car repairs.”
“Because he’s my son!” Carmen shot back immediately.
“Exactly. And I have no problem with that.”
“Then why are you bringing it up?”
“Because you apparently have a problem when your son spends money on his own home.”
Carmen opened her mouth, but I continued.
“In February, you needed three hundred euros to repair your car. In April, two hundred for a bill. In June, Javier paid your insurance. And last month, he gave you money for a new refrigerator.”
“Those are family matters!”
“And what is our washing machine? An international matter?”
Javier covered his face with one hand.
Carmen’s face turned red.
“You can’t compare the two! I’m his mother.”
“And this is his home.”
“I raised him!”
“And now he’s thirty-eight.”
“You insolent woman!”
“I’m insolent because I’m telling the truth?”
Carmen jumped to her feet.
“My son has always helped me!”
“And he can continue helping you.”
“I don’t need your permission!”
“I never said you did.”
“Then shut your mouth!”
I stared at her.
That was too far.
“Do not tell me to shut my mouth in my own home.”
“Then stop coming between me and my son!”
I laughed, although there was nothing funny about the situation anymore.
“Carmen, you’re sitting in my kitchen accusing me of wasting my husband’s money because we bought a washing machine for our own home.”
“Because ever since he met you, all he does is spend money!”
That was when I finally said what I had been trying to hold back for the past several minutes.
“You latched onto your son’s wallet long before I ever came along, and that’s exactly why you’re so angry!”
Carmen’s eyes widened.
Javier’s head snapped up.
“Elena…”
“No. Enough.”
Carmen looked as though she could barely believe what she had just heard.
“How dare you say that to me?”
“Because for years I’ve listened to you comment on how much we spend, what we buy, where we go on vacation, and how much you think Javier should be saving.”
“I’m only worried about my son!”
“Then worry about him when he’s paying your bills, too.”
“I never force him to!”
“Neither do I.”
Silence.
This time, no one spoke for several seconds.
Finally, Javier pushed his coffee cup aside.
“Mom, Elena is right about one thing.”
Carmen turned toward him.
“One thing?”
“Yes. You can’t criticize what we buy while regularly accepting money from me.”
“So now you’re against me too?”
“I’m not against anyone.”
“Yes, you are!”
“Mom, I helped you because I wanted to. Elena has never once told me not to help you. Not once.”
Carmen glanced at me.
“I’m sure she throws it in your face when I’m not around.”
Javier shook his head.
“Never.”
That answer seemed to hurt her more than anything I had said.
“So now I’m the problem.”
“The problem,” Javier said calmly, “is that you judge our finances when you have no idea how we actually manage our money.”
Carmen grabbed the handbag hanging over the back of her chair.
“Fine. I understand everything now.”
“Mom…”
“No. It’s fine. I’ll never ask about anything again.”
I knew perfectly well that wasn’t true.
Carmen headed toward the kitchen door, but before leaving, she turned back to me one last time.
“I hope you’re happy now.”
“Not particularly.”
“You managed to turn my own son against me.”
This time, Javier answered before I could.
“Mom, nobody turned me against you. I’m simply telling you not to accuse my wife of things that aren’t true.”
Carmen fell silent.
She put on her coat and left the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
For several seconds, Javier and I stood silently in the kitchen.
Then he looked at me.
“You know, the part about her latching onto my wallet might have been a little harsh.”
I folded my arms.
“Was it a lie?”
Javier opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
Finally, he glanced toward the door his mother had just stormed through.
“For the sake of my own physical safety, I’m not answering that.”
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
A few minutes later, though, as we started clearing the table again, Javier took out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago.”
“What?”
He opened his banking app.
“I’m going to separate the money I use to help Mom from our household expenses. She’ll get a fixed amount every month. If she needs more than that, we’ll discuss it first.”
I looked at him in surprise.
“I never asked you to do that.”
“I know.”
He put his phone away.
“That’s exactly why I should have done it myself a long time ago.”
And for the first time in a long while, I felt that maybe the argument hadn’t been completely pointless.
Because the real problem had never been the seven-hundred-and-eighty-euro washing machine.
It wasn’t the sofa.
And it wasn’t the vacation.
The problem was that Carmen thought it was perfectly normal to keep track of her son’s money while expecting no one to keep track of how much Javier spent on her.
And that afternoon, someone finally put all the accounts on the table.