PART 3
Graham looked at me.
“Mom?”
I took the folded invoice from my purse.
“I’m not leaving without paying.”
Bianca crossed her arms.
“Good.”
I held the paper between two fingers.
“I’m leaving after settling the account.”
She smiled.
“That’s what I said.”
Graham looked confused.
“Account?”
I handed him the invoice.
He unfolded it.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“What is this?”
Bianca answered before I could.
“It’s what she owes us.”
“For what?”
“For staying here.”
Graham looked at his wife.
“Mom was invited.”
“I know.”
“You invited her.”
“I know.”
“So why are you charging her two thousand dollars?”
Bianca’s mouth tightened.
“Because she stayed for a week.”
Graham stared at the invoice.
Then he looked at me.
“Mom, did you agree to pay this?”
“No.”
“Then why is there an invoice?”
“Your wife gave it to me yesterday.”
He looked back at Bianca.
“Yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“And you seriously charged my mother nine hundred dollars for staying in the guest room?”
Bianca sighed.
“Graham, don’t make this dramatic. She said she needed until this morning to pay.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
His voice had changed.
It was quieter now.
That frightened Bianca more than yelling would have.
I watched them for a moment.
Then I reached into my purse and removed my notebook.
“I was going to leave this here.”
Bianca rolled her eyes.
“If it’s an apology, you don’t need to—”
“It isn’t.”
I handed it to Graham.
He opened the first page.
His eyes moved down the handwritten list.
Monday.
Groceries: $186.43.
Children’s school supplies: $42.17.
Dinner ingredients: $73.84.
Laundry supplies: $28.11.
Tuesday.
Groceries: $154.29.
Children’s medication: $19.62.
Soccer replacement socks: $16.99.
Wednesday.
Groceries: $132.48.
School lunch items: $27.54.
Thursday.
Household cleaning supplies: $61.73.
Friday.
Groceries: $147.08.
Saturday.
Groceries: $98.64.
Then, beneath everything, I had written:
Total money personally spent during stay: $988.92
Graham looked up.
“Mom…”
“I wasn’t finished.”
I turned the page.
There were hours.
Not exact minutes.
Just blocks of time.
Monday: 5 hours cleaning, 3 hours childcare.
Tuesday: 6 hours cleaning, 5 hours childcare.
Wednesday: 4 hours cleaning, 7 hours childcare.
Thursday: 5 hours cleaning, 6 hours childcare.
Friday: 6 hours cleaning, 6 hours childcare.
Saturday: 4 hours cleaning, 8 hours childcare.
Sunday: 2 hours cleaning, 3 hours childcare.
Underneath it, I had written:
Total unpaid household and childcare labor: 70 hours.
Graham’s face became pale.
Bianca laughed nervously.
“This is ridiculous.”
I looked at her.
“Is it?”
“You’re actually keeping track of chores?”
“You gave me an invoice.”
She opened her mouth.
I continued.
“So I decided to keep one too.”
Graham turned another page.
There was a copy of the grocery receipts.
Then another page with photographs.
The dirty kitchen from the morning I arrived.
The overflowing laundry baskets.
The bathroom before I cleaned it.
The refrigerator before I emptied it.
The pantry before I reorganized it.
Then pictures of the same rooms after I had finished.
Bianca stared at the pages.
“Why did you take photographs?”
“Because I knew one day someone might tell me I imagined all of this.”
Silence.
Then Graham whispered,
“Bianca…”
She snapped.
“Oh, please! She volunteered to help!”
I nodded.
“I did.”
“Exactly!”
“But helping is not the same thing as agreeing to be charged for visiting my grandchildren.”
Bianca looked at me.
“You weren’t visiting. You were staying here.”
“I was invited.”
“You could have said no.”
“I could have.”
“And nobody forced you to clean.”
“No.”
“So what’s the problem?”
I looked directly at her.
“The problem isn’t the cleaning.”
Her expression changed.
“The problem is that you invited your children’s grandmother because you needed help. Then you treated her like unpaid staff. And when she finally became tired, you called her lazy.”
Graham closed the notebook.
“Did you really say that to Mom?”
Bianca looked away.
“I was stressed.”
“You called her lazy?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You told my mother she was lazy because she sat down after cleaning the house?”
Bianca didn’t answer.
Graham rubbed his forehead.
“Where are Maisie and Oliver?”
“Sleeping.”
I looked toward the house.
“Then let them sleep.”
Graham stared at me.
“Mom, please don’t leave angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
That surprised him.
“I was angry last night. I’m just disappointed now.”
I opened the trunk.
Inside were two wrapped packages.
“One for Maisie.”
Then another.
“One for Oliver.”
Graham looked at the gifts.
“Please give them to the kids.”
Bianca suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“Are you seriously leaving?”
“Yes.”
“But you haven’t paid.”
I turned to her.
“I have.”
She blinked.
“What?”
I pulled out my checkbook.
“I told you I would settle everything.”
I wrote a check.
Then I tore it from the book and held it toward her.
Bianca’s eyes widened.
She reached for it.
But before she could take it, I placed it in Graham’s hand instead.
He looked at the amount.
His eyebrows rose.
“Mom…”
“I don’t want to pay her.”
Bianca immediately stepped forward.
“What do you mean?”
“I want you to see what you’re paying for.”
Graham looked at the check again.
It wasn’t for two thousand dollars.
It was for $2,000.00.
Exactly what Bianca had demanded.
But underneath the amount, in the memo line, I had written:
FINAL PAYMENT FOR SEVEN DAYS OF BEING TREATED AS A SERVANT.
Bianca’s face turned red.
“You’re insulting me!”
“No.”
I took a breath.
“I’m documenting the reason.”
Graham handed the check back to me.
“I don’t want this.”
“Neither do I.”
I tore it in half.
Then into quarters.
The pieces fell onto the driveway.
Bianca stared at them.
“But you said you’d pay!”
“I said I’d settle everything.”
I opened my purse and pulled out another envelope.
This one was thick.
I handed it to Graham.
He opened it.
Inside were the receipts for everything I had purchased during the week.
“I’ve already spent almost a thousand dollars on your household.”
Graham stared at the receipts.
“I’ll reimburse you.”
“No.”
“Mom—”
“You’re my son. I didn’t come here to charge you.”
I looked at Bianca.
“I came because my grandchildren asked for Grandma.”
Graham lowered his head.
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
He looked at me.
“No, Mom. I mean it.”
His voice cracked.
“I had no idea.”