Chapter 3

David called back a few hours later. Susan was too "distraught" to speak, he said.

"Sarah, we need $2,500 for the first month's nanny," he stated, no preamble. "And then we'll figure out the ongoing monthly payments from there."

Two thousand five hundred dollars.

The number echoed in my mind.

I remembered being twenty, a college student, accepted into a vital study abroad program. It wasn't a luxury; it was a career-making opportunity in my field. I was short $2,500 for the fees. I had scholarships, I worked part-time, but I couldn't bridge that final gap.

I asked my parents, David and Susan, if they would co-sign a small student loan. Just co-sign. I would make the payments.

They refused.

"You need to learn to live within your means, Sarah," my mother had said, her tone dismissive. "If you can't afford it, you don't go."

"We can't risk our credit for your little trip," my father had added.

I missed the program. A classmate, whose parents did help her, went. She was now highly successful, working internationally, something I had dreamed of. That $2,500, that refusal, had closed a door for me, a door I could never reopen.

And now they wanted $2,500. For a nanny. For the son they chose to have in their late fifties, after showing zero support for my son.

"No," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.

"What do you mean, no?" David sounded shocked.

"I mean no, I will not be paying for a nanny for Jacob."

I took a breath. "I remember when I needed $2,500 for my study abroad program. You told me to live within my means. I suggest you do the same."

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line.

"Sarah, this is different!" he finally spluttered. "This is your brother! He's a baby!"

"And Leo is my son," I replied. "He's also a baby. A premature baby I am currently caring for while recovering from major surgery. My priority is my child, my family."

"You're being selfish!" he accused.

"No, Dad. I'm being realistic. You made the decision to have another child at your age, with your financial situation. He is your responsibility, not mine."

"Your mother is very ill!"

"Then you need to step up and care for her and your son. Or find affordable help. I cannot and will not be your financial safety net."

I could hear Susan in the background, her voice rising in hysterics.

"She's a terrible daughter!" she shrieked. "Ungrateful!"

David came back on. "You'll regret this, Sarah."

"No, Dad," I said quietly. "I don't think I will."

I hung up the phone, my hand shaking. Michael came over and put his arms around me.

"You did the right thing," he said softly.

I leaned into him, looking at Leo sleeping peacefully in his bassinet. My means, my responsibility. My son.