Gasps echoed from the other room. My grandmother, Elellanar, slowly stood from her chair, looking concerned. Uncle James fumbled with something in his pocket while my teenage cousin Brandon held up his phone, apparently texting the drama to friends in real time.
“Mom, please,” I begged, mortified that my salary was now public knowledge to extended family members I barely knew. “This isn’t appropriate. Can we discuss this privately?”
“Privately?” Robert finally spoke, his deep voice carrying that familiar edge of disappointment. “You want privacy when you’re letting your sister potentially become homeless while you’re spending thousands on wedding flowers and photographers?”
Emma sat at the far end of the table, staring at her phone screen with an expression I couldn’t read. Her blonde hair fell forward, hiding most of her face, but I noticed her perfectly manicured nails tapping rapidly on her device. Designer jeans, a new Michael Kors bag beside her chair, fresh highlights that probably cost two hundred dollars. The signs of financial struggle were notably absent.
“I need you to transfer that money right now,” Martha demanded, pulling out her own phone. “Eight hundred for November’s rent, plus two hundred for utilities. One thousand, Crystal. That’s nothing to someone with your salary.”
