Mom quickly said, “It’s not rent. It’s helping with household expenses.”
“I live in the basement,” I said before I could stop myself. “I buy my own groceries. I pay for my phone, car insurance, gas, and half the utilities.”
Claire’s head snapped up. “You make it sound like you’re being abused.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re acting like it,” she said. “I have two children, Ethan. Do you know how expensive daycare is?”
I stared at her. “You don’t pay daycare. Mom watches them five days a week.”
Claire’s cheeks reddened. Dad slapped his palm lightly against the table.
“That’s enough.”
But Grandpa was no longer eating. His face had gone still in a way I had only seen once before, at my uncle’s funeral.
“Claire,” he said, “do you pay anything to live here?”
Claire opened her mouth, then closed it.
Dad answered for her. “She’s rebuilding.”
Grandpa nodded slowly. “How long has she been rebuilding?”
Mom’s voice came out thin. “That’s not fair.”
Grandpa looked around the table. “No, what’s not fair is charging one child rent while giving the other a free room, free childcare, free meals, and then calling it family.”
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