"I'm not her only child. She has four of us, doesn't she?"
"But you're the oldest! Taking care of Mom is your responsibility!"
"Besides, Mom's used to having you around—"
Something seized in my chest. My breath caught.
"Sylvester! I'm the oldest, but I'm only one year older than you!"
"There is nothing on this earth I'm obligated to do. I have given everything I have!"
"You're just mad Mom didn't give you any money, so you're picking a fight!"
"Mom's the one who split it up. You can't just drop everything and dump your anger on us because you didn't get a cut!"
I turned and glanced at Mom. Her face had gone white as ash.
"Sylvester, let me ask you something."
"What?"
"Mom's been paralyzed for seven years now. You were already married when it happened. In all that time, have you ever given her a single dollar? Have you taken care of her for even one day?"
He went quiet.
I said:
"No. You haven't given her a cent. And ever since she became paralyzed, your wife and kids haven't even visited once."
"In seven years, I can count on one hand the number of times you've come to see her. And every time, all you brought was a bunch of bananas."