For three years, I had worked seventy-hour weeks, worn shoes with holes in the soles, and skipped meals to save every penny. I had finally managed to pay $15,000 cash for three plane tickets—the only reward I had allowed myself after years of exhausting work as a single mother.
A few weeks earlier, in one foolish moment of wanting my mother’s approval, I had forwarded her our flight itinerary. Now I stared at her message in disbelief.
She claimed she had “accidentally canceled” our tickets, then immediately admitted it wasn’t accidental at all.
“Your brother and sister needed a break. They’ve been so stressed lately, so I’ve decided to go with them instead.”
Attached was a smirking shrug emoji.
She hadn’t simply canceled our reservations. Using the confirmation code I had trusted her with, she had logged into the airline’s portal, erased me and my innocent children from the trip, and transferred the passengers to herself and my two unemployed, thirty-year-old adult siblings.
