It was my mom.
I almost didn’t pick up.
Almost.
But if I didn’t answer her calls, she worried. And when she worried, she called my dad. And when he worried, he tried to fix things by taking on more work.
They didn’t need that. Not from me.
I hit accept.
“Hey, Ma.”
Her voice came through, bright and warm, mixing with a clatter in the background. Probably the kitchen, definitely the old stove they’d been meaning to replace since I was twelve.
“Ledger, honey! How was training?”
I swallowed. “Good.”
Lie number one.
“You sound tired,” she said. “You’re eating enough, right? Are you getting enough sleep? You’ve got to keep your strength up.”
I closed my eyes. “I’m fine. Promise.”
“Your dad got called into another double shift today,” she continued, voice dropping. “The water heater ruptured last night. Flooded half the laundry room before we caught it.”
My stomach dropped.
“Is everything okay now?” I asked carefully.
“Oh, we’ll manage,” she said quickly, the way she always did when she didn’t want me to worry. “Your father’s seeing if he can fix it himself, but if not, we’ll get someone to come out and take a look.”
Translation: They couldn’t afford a repairman.
I gripped the phone tighter.
They’d already stretched themselves thin so I couldchase a dream—one we’d never had money for in the first place. They’d driven me to every swim meet in a car that barely made it up hills. They’d sat on humid pool decks for hours because I loved it. They’d worked extra shifts to cover club fees.
They’d sacrificed everything.
A familiar guilt crept up my throat. My accomplishments were supposed to make things easier for them, not weigh them down more. They’d already sacrificed too much for my dream. Our family motto had always been “We make do.” And I’d promised myself I would be the one to break that cycle.
I was failing that promise spectacularly.
I couldn’t add myself to their pile of stress now. Not when they were barely keeping their own lives patched together.
“I, uh, need to get going,” I said, even though it wasn’t true.
Lie number two. But if I didn’t get off the phone, my mom would figure out that something was wrong. She knew me too well for me to fool her for long.
“I’ll call this weekend,” I said softly.
“We’d love that,” she replied. “We’re proud of you, you know.”
Something in my chest bent.
Not broke.
