My Mom, the Real Bloodsucker

My phone screen lit up. It was a text from the bank.

"You received a transfer of 200 dollars from Diane Sutherland, account ending 4092."

The number stung, landing right on a nerve that was already raw. I set the phone down and felt a hollow, twisting pain in my stomach.

I'd only eaten one meal yesterday to save money. This 200 dollars had to last me the entire month, all 30 days of it.

My roommate, Wes Forks, leaned over, saw the message, and immediately got worked up on my behalf.

"Sawyer, is your dad made of stone? What can 200 dollars even do in Bellmont?

"I spent over ten dollars on a bubble tea yesterday without even thinking twice. This isn't an allowance; it's charity for beggars."

As he talked, Wes picked up the imported watch he'd just bought and strapped it onto his wrist. The thing looked like it cost a few hundred thousand dollars.

I managed a smile that probably looked worse than crying.

He didn't get it. My father, a man so far above us that he might as well have lived on another planet, probably did think we were nothing but beggars.

I kept seeing Mom's face, worn down by exhaustion and helplessness. She'd been telling me the same thing for as long as I could remember.

"Sawyer, your father's a city man. Deep down, he's always looked down on people like us—country folk.

"He doesn't think much of me, and he thinks even less of you. Your uncle, your grandparents, none of us are good enough for him.

"Every time I ask him for a little more so you can have a decent life, he throws it back in my face. He says the Sutherlands are nothing but a bunch of freeloaders, leeches trying to bleed him dry."

Those words took root in me like poisoned seeds, and they'd been growing ever since.

Just then, my phone rang. It was Mom calling.

"Sawyer..." Her voice sounded tired.

"This month... It's still just 200 dollars.

"I begged him, Sawyer. I practically groveled. But your father said not a dollar more."

She paused. "It's my fault. I don't have what it takes, and that's why you have to suffer like this."

Anger and heartbreak churned together inside me. None of this was her fault. She'd already taken more humiliation from that man than anyone should have to, all for my sake.

I couldn't imagine what it cost her pride to grovel like that, just so her son could eat.

"Mom, don't say that." I cut her off before she could keep going. "I can pick up a part-time job on campus. I can support myself."

"You're such a good kid." Her voice cracked on the other end of the line. "Just promise me you won't starve yourself."

I hung up. The dorm room went quiet in a way that felt almost unbearable.

I pulled a two-day-old bag of white bread from my drawer, tore open the packaging, and took a bite. It was dry and stale, scraping my throat as I swallowed.

My phone lit up again, this time with messages from the class group chat. Everyone was talking over each other about a dinner plan.

"We're celebrating Dylan's birthday tonight! Karaoke and drinks after at our usual spot. Don't be late!"

"Heard we're hitting that new restaurant. It's like 50 dollars a head minimum."

"We're splitting the bill, obviously, but let's go big for Dylan tonight!"

Mia Lawson tagged everyone by name.

"@Everyone, get your butts out here tonight. No excuses allowed!"

I flipped my phone face down on the desk, trying to shut out a world that I didn't belong to. A second later, Mia tagged me directly.

"@Sawyer Reeves, you're coming too. It's Dylan's birthday, so you can't skip this one. You're always keeping such a low profile. Come out and have some fun for once!"

I clenched my fist. To them, it was just an ordinary night out. To me, 50 dollars was worth ten days of groceries.

I picked up the phone, my thumb hovering over the screen, typing and deleting the same message over and over. In the end, I just sent a single text.

"Sorry, I've got a shift tonight and can't make it. Happy birthday, Dylan!"

It was a lie. But I had no choice. I couldn't afford to go.

I switched off the screen and pulled myself back into the dark. Whatever happiness belonged to normal college students, it wasn't mine to have.

I had a dream that night. Dad, a man I'd only ever seen in financial magazines, stood over Mom after knocking her to the ground.

"Diane Sutherland, you and that hick son of yours are nothing but a couple of freeloaders, always crawling back with your hands out."