When my brother and his wife decided to go on a week-long vacation, I was surprised — for the first time in a long while, he wanted to take our mother with them. It seemed like care and humanity had awakened again in his voice. But I knew his wife — a woman with a difficult character — was against the idea. Mom has been using a wheelchair for a long time, and I heard the sister-in-law trying to convince my brother that the trip would be “too uncomfortable.”
“You understand we can’t watch your mother the whole vacation,” she said, “let’s do it next time…”
But my brother insisted. And although I was worried, I helped Mom get ready. We carefully packed her things, I accompanied them to the airport, and said goodbye. Mom was smiling — she was happy her son hadn’t forgotten her.
Only thirty minutes passed. A call from Mom.
“Mom? Why are you calling? You should have already taken off!”
“They flew without me…”
Mom’s voice trembled.
“They said I was with them, but when they went to board, the sister-in-law said she would check us in first and then come back for me. She just disappeared. Then I saw them through the airplane window… They flew away and I stayed here. Alone.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I ran back to the airport. Mom was sitting there, in the waiting area, with her suitcase, still wearing her coat, crying and confused. I hugged her tightly, angry at how cruelly and meanly they had treated her.
Later I found out the sister-in-law simply lied to my brother, saying Mom was already on the plane and that she was fine. He sat down unaware that our mother had stayed at the airport. How convenient — getting rid of a burden and still looking caring.
My brother and his wife lived in our parents’ house. Mom never interfered, tried to be a good mother-in-law, tolerated a lot. But now I knew — there was nothing left to tolerate.
While they were on vacation, I spoke with Mom. Without hesitation, she signed over the house to me.
“You are my daughter, and I know you won’t leave me at the airport like useless luggage.”
The house was now ours. Legally. Officially. And fairly.
A week later, my brother and his wife returned — tanned, satisfied, with lots of photos. But I was waiting for them at the door.
“Take your things. Live where family still means something. Here, you have no place anymore.”
The sister-in-law screamed. Threatened. My brother tried to explain. But it was too late.
Mom sat by the window, drinking tea. She smiled. This time for real.
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