Chapter 4: The Credit Card Confession

Soon, it was time for me to start college. The day I’d been waiting for finally arrived. I packed my bags with shaky hands.

Since my university was in-state, just over an hour by train, I didn’t ask my parents to come with me. I wanted to do it on my own. Independence felt like a fresh start.

The day before orientation, I met up with friends to take the train together. We lugged our suitcases down the platform, laughing nervously. The excitement was contagious.

At the station, I said goodbye to my parents and set off for a new chapter, full of hope. My mom hugged me tight, whispering, "I’m so proud of you." My dad just patted my shoulder, looking awkward. I felt a strange mix of sadness and relief.

But my good mood didn’t last. Life has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect it. I should’ve known better.

On the train, I ran into someone I couldn’t stand—Maddie Jenkins. She spotted me from across the aisle, her hair dyed a loud purple, and sauntered over with a smirk. My stomach dropped.

"Well, if it isn’t our star student," she sneered, her eyes glinting. Her friends giggled behind her. I rolled my eyes.

I knew she didn’t like me. Neither did the other kids our age on the block. I was always the "model child" their parents compared them to—well-behaved, never causing trouble, always getting top grades. The kind of kid everyone loves to hate.

Of course they resented me, but I didn’t care. If you’re jealous of someone better than you, that’s your problem. I refused to dim my light just to make them comfortable. I had my own dreams.

I never lowered my standards just to make others feel better. I wasn’t living to please them. I had my own dreams. I wasn’t going to apologize for that.

Maddie especially hated me. We were the same age and classmates in elementary school. I was always top three in the class; she was always at the bottom. After every report card, her dad would lay into her. She’d glare at me with hatred, as if it was my fault. I stopped caring.

Luckily, I was recruited to a different junior high, and we never had to go to the same school again. We both breathed a sigh of relief. I thought I’d seen the last of her.

Maddie never gave me a kind look. Every time we met, she’d give me a mocking smile, and I’d glare right back. Then we’d go our separate ways. It was a silent truce. I liked it that way.

But this time, she didn’t leave. She deliberately came over to me, blocking my aisle.

"You’re heading to college, right?" she said smugly. "So am I. My school starts tomorrow too." She twirled a strand of purple hair around her finger. I tried to ignore her.

"Oh," I replied, looking at my phone. I scrolled through my messages, pretending not to care. My heart pounded.

"Our tuition’s expensive—a thousand bucks. Guess where mine came from?" she tilted her head, acting playful. Her friends leaned in, grinning. I could feel the tension rising.

"Don’t care," I said, not looking up. I could feel my cheeks getting hot. I clenched my fists under the table.

"It has to do with you," she sang. Her voice was sing-song, taunting. I braced myself.

A sense of dread filled me. My stomach dropped. I knew what was coming.

No way—

"Your dad gave it to me," she blurted out, grinning. "He put it on his credit card and told my mom to ask him for money anytime. He’s so thoughtful! Savannah, I wish I had a dad who cared as much as yours!" She looked so pleased with herself, her eyes shining with triumph. I wanted to slap the smile off her face.

Anger welled up inside me, making it hard to breathe. My fists clenched in my lap. I stared out the window, fighting back tears.

Just yesterday, my mom took me shopping for school supplies. I saw socks on sale—three pairs for five bucks—and asked her to buy some. My mom had been so frugal, first saving for a house, then paying off debts, that she hadn’t bought herself new socks in years. Every pair had holes. She’d patch them up, saying, "No one will see anyway."

But even for such cheap socks, she shook her head. She said no one would see them anyway. I saw the guilt in her eyes. My throat tightened.

My mom was so stingy with herself she wouldn’t buy five-dollar socks, but my dad didn’t blink before lending out a thousand. The unfairness of it stung. It felt like a slap in the face.

And it was all on a credit card, with high interest that my mom would have to help pay off. Another burden on her shoulders. I wanted to scream.

At that moment, I hated my dad. I hated the way he made us feel small. I hated that he always chose others over us.

His "help" for others came at the expense of my mom and me. We were always the ones left behind. It was always us paying the price.

In other words, he was robbing Peter to pay Paul—feeding others with what should’ve been ours. He called it generosity, but it was just neglect.

He seemed generous, but he was the coldest person I knew. His heart was open to everyone but us. I felt invisible.

I held back my emotions, curled my lip, and said to Maddie, "If you like my dad so much, why don’t you take him as your own?" My voice was icy. I hoped it stung.

Not getting the reaction she wanted, Maddie huffed and stormed off. Her friends followed, whispering behind their hands. I watched them go, my anger simmering.

Once she left the car, I called my mom. My hands shook as I dialed her number. I needed her to know.

"Mom, Dad put a thousand on his credit card for Maddie’s tuition," I said bluntly. I didn’t sugarcoat it. My voice was tight.

There was a long pause, then my mom choked out, "Okay, I understand." Her voice was thick with tears. I could hear her pain through the phone.

It gutted me to hear her try to sound steady.

I’d long since outgrown the childish wish for my parents to stay together forever. The older I got, the more I understood how hard things were for my mom, and the more I felt for her. I wanted her to be free. I wanted her to be happy.

I thought she’d be better off without my dad. She deserved peace. I hoped she’d finally choose herself.

So when I found out, I told her right away. I wanted her to know the truth. I wasn’t going to protect him anymore.

Whatever she decided, I’d respect it. I trusted her to do what was best. I’d support her, no matter what.