After My Cancer Diagnosis, My Mom Transferred Away My Life-Saving Money

Every time I didn't do as I was told, my mother would kneel down and slap her own face.

In elementary school, my sister stole the whole class's activity fund, and my mother wanted me to take the blame.

When I refused, she knelt right there in front of my entire class and slapped herself, sobbing that she'd raised me wrong.

So I became the thief in everyone's eyes, and I was frozen out for five straight years.

Before the SATs, my sister and I were competing for the same college recommendation, and my mother told me to give it up.

When I wouldn't, she knelt in front of the whole school and accused me of loose morals, of trying to trade my body to bribe the principal and the teachers.

In the end my sister got her guaranteed admission, and I fell apart so badly it wrecked my SATs. I had no choice but to move away and redo the year somewhere else.

Then over the fall break, the whole family went in for physicals, and I was diagnosed with cancer.

My mother knelt down and slapped herself again.

"Layla, it's all my fault, I'm useless, I never could earn much money."

"But your sister just got her heart broken, she's so down, she wants to book a tour group and go abroad to clear her head. Just give her that three hundred thousand."

But that was every dollar I had. That was the money keeping me alive.

I said no.

So she secretly slipped me sleeping pills and, while I was out, transferred all of it away.

I cried and demanded to know why my life was worth less than one trip for my sister.

My mother couldn't have cared less.

"What's the problem? I gave birth to you, I raised you, so what if I take a little something of yours?"

"And look at you, giving me attitude on top of it!"

"Let me tell you, that illness of yours is just from you working yourself into it. I just went and got a folk remedy. It's guaranteed to cure you."

But when it actually came time for me to take that remedy, she changed her mind.

...

Seeing that I wouldn't say anything, my mother's voice shot up.

"Layla Swanson, let me make one thing clear, I still run this house!"

"Your sister just got dumped, she's miserable, she's going out to clear her head. She's your own flesh and blood. What's wrong with you putting up some money for her?"

I looked down at my phone.

The balance on my card was six hundred and eighty-two dollars.

That three hundred thousand had taken me five years of work to save.

At the worst stretch of a project, I flew to five cities in one month, doubled over with stomach pain, and still had to drink with clients.

Rewriting a proposal at three in the morning and presenting it at seven was routine.

I made myself wait for the sales before I'd buy even a two-hundred-dollar dress.

And now all of it had turned into a plane ticket on my sister's social media.

I asked, "What's the remedy?"

My mother perked up.

"There's an old herbalist on the west side of town who's cured several cancer patients."

My father chimed in from the side.

"Hospitals these days just scare people. They rush you into chemo, everything they use is Western medicine."

"What our ancestors passed down works better than any of those Western drugs."

I opened the plastic bag.

Inside were a few packets of dark brown herbs. No prescription, no label, no doctor's name.

I picked up my phone to call the police.

The three hundred thousand had been transferred without my knowing. As long as a case was opened, there was still a chance of getting it back.

But before I could even dial, my mother knelt in front of me again.

Her hand came up and struck her own face.

That familiar sound of the slap rang through the living room.

My father had already rushed over to grab my phone.

"What are you doing!"

"She's your own mother, and you'd send her to prison?"

I kept my grip on the phone.

"She drugged me. She transferred away the money that's supposed to save my life."

"That's family money too!"

My father shouted until his neck went red.

"You're an unmarried girl. Who else are you saving your earnings for, if not this family?"

My mother shuffled forward on her knees and wrapped her arms around my legs.

"Layla, I was wrong."

"I'm bowing my head to you, just don't call the police."

And then she really did slam her forehead against the floor.

A hard thud.

I stepped back without thinking, and all those childhood memories came rushing up again.

Classmates whispering.

Teachers' disappointment.

And her, kneeling at the front of the classroom, saying she'd failed to raise her daughter right, while everyone turned to look at me with disgust.

All these years, one bend of her knees and I became the guilty one.

My father pointed at me.

"Your mother has high blood pressure, a bad heart. If she actually goes in there for a few days, do you think she comes out alive?"

"Are you only going to be satisfied when you've watched us both die in front of you?"

I looked at them.

One kneeling and crying, one standing and cursing.

No one asked whether I was afraid to die.

Seeing that I still hadn't pressed the call button, my mother's crying slowly softened.

She knew me too well.

She could even calculate exactly how long I'd hold out.

"Layla, you've always been the sensible one. Don't tear this family apart over a little money."

The hope of saving my life was, in her mouth, just a little money.

The phone screen went dark.

In the end, I didn't call the police.

My mother let out a breath at once, stood up, and, for once, gave me a smile.

"That's more like it. A family dragging things to the police station, how ugly would that look."

She carried the medicine into the kitchen.

In less than half an hour, a bitter, rank smell filled the living room.

My stomach turned, and I spun around to go back to my bedroom.

My father blocked the door.

"The medicine's ready. Drink it first, don't waste all the trouble your mother went to."

On the table sat a big bowl of black liquid, unnamed bits of debris floating along the rim.

I said, "I'm not drinking it."

My mother's face soured a little.

"I got up at five this morning to buy that medicine for you. Walked three streets over, spent more than three hundred dollars."

"Do you have any idea how tired I get, walking that far at my age?"

I looked at her, and suddenly the whole thing felt absurd.

She'd handed my sister three hundred thousand without blinking.

Spend three hundred on me, and it cut her to the bone.

My father picked up the bowl and shoved it in front of me.

"Don't be ungrateful."

"You gave yourself cancer, staying up all hours the way you do, and now you're being picky about this."

The liquid sloshed over the edge and splashed onto the back of my hand.

Hot enough that I flinched.

My mother jumped in at once.

"See, even your father's worried."

"Hurry up and drink it. When you're done, I'll make you more."

They closed in on me, one on each side.

And in that moment I finally understood.

They weren't afraid I'd die.

They just couldn't accept me dying in any way but the one they'd arranged.

I pushed the bowl away and locked myself in my bedroom.

Outside, my father started pounding on the door.

My mother didn't cry this time.

She asked me coldly, "Layla, you think your wings are strong enough now, that there's nothing I can do about you?"

I slid down with my back against the door.

My phone buzzed more than a dozen times.

The family group chat.

My sister, Wanda Swanson, had fired off nine photos in a row.

Snow-capped mountains, hotels, a yacht, and a table lined with champagne.

She was wearing a newly bought dress, making a heart at the camera.

"Thank you Mom and Dad for the trip. I feel so much better now that I'm away."

"I'll bring you presents when I get back."

My mother replied in a heartbeat.

"That's our Wanda, so thoughtful."

"Don't bother with presents, all that matters is that you're happy. If you run short on money, just tell Mom anytime."

My father sent a thumbs-up.

My aunt praised how pretty Wanda looked.

My uncle told her to stay safe.

No one asked where the money for the trip came from.

No one asked why I hadn't said anything in the chat.

I opened the member list and stared at my parents' and sister's names for a long time.

Then I left the family group chat.

When the notification popped up, I actually felt relieved.

Then I changed every one of my payment passwords and turned off Face ID.

My mother always used to say a family shouldn't keep secrets from each other.

So I'd never hidden my bank card PIN from her.

She knew my salary too.

She even remembered which day my company paid out bonuses better than I did.

My sister's income, though, she never once asked about.

When Wanda first started working she made eight thousand a month and spent twenty thousand.

Where the extra came from, everyone understood without saying it.

Only I had to be "independent."

After eighteen, I never spent a cent of the family's money, not even on a pair of slippers.

Things went quiet outside the door.

I called my best friend, Lavinia Dickerson.

When she picked up, I opened my mouth a few times and no sound came out.

Lavinia knew something was wrong.

"Layla, where are you?"

"Home."

"Did the medical results come back?"

I made a small sound of yes.

"Stomach cancer. I might need surgery."

She went silent for two seconds.

"How much are you short?"

My nose stung all at once.

She didn't push to ask if it was real.

She didn't tell me to try some folk remedy.

The first thing she asked was how much I was short.

I said, "Lend me thirty thousand first, and once I"

"Account number."

"Lavinia, I don't know when I can pay it back."

"Cut the nonsense. Account number."

Before long the money came through, a full fifty thousand.

She said thirty might not be enough, and to keep the other twenty for the hospital stay.

I clamped a hand over my mouth so I wouldn't cry out loud.

Lavinia cursed at me. "Layla, if you dare skip treatment over money, I'll come to your place and drag you out myself."

I laughed a little.

That same night I packed my ID, my medical records, and a few clothes into a suitcase.

This home, I would never stay in again.

The next morning I wheeled my suitcase out of the bedroom.

Mom had already set the medicine on the dining table.

"Drink it before you go."

"I'm not taking folk remedies. I'm going to a real hospital for treatment."

Her eyes went to my suitcase.

"You're still moving out?"

"Yes."

"Layla, your head's up in the clouds now."

"You left the family chat too. Do you not want this family anymore?"

I buttoned my jacket.

"You're the ones who didn't want me first."

She started to say something, but her phone rang.

A video call from my sister.

On the screen Wanda had sunglasses on, a luxury boutique behind her.

"Mom, I found a bag, it's so me."

"But it's sixty-eight hundred and I don't have enough on me."

Mom smiled at once.

"How much short?"

"Forty-five hundred."

"Mom will figure it out for you."

Wanda blew a kiss at the camera.

"Thanks, Mom, I knew you loved me best."

"My friends are calling me over for photos, gotta go!"

Mom turned to look at me.

"You transfer forty-five hundred to Wanda."

I almost thought I'd heard wrong.

"Where would I get that kind of money?"

"Didn't you just borrow fifty thousand? I heard it through the door yesterday."

"That money is to save my life!"

"Save your life, save your life, haven't I already found you the medicine?"

She pushed the bowl toward me.

"Drink this and you'll be fine. Why send the money off to a hospital?"

I picked up my suitcase.

"Move."

Mom blocked me.

"Wanda's abroad, everyone around her has a designer bag and she doesn't. People will look down on her."

"She's your own sister. What's wrong with helping her out once?"

I gave a bitter laugh. "And me?"

Mom didn't get it.

"What?"

"I'm your daughter too. Why is my life worth less than one of her bags?"

She looked away from me.

"You've always been more capable than Wanda since you were little. You never needed us to worry about you."

That line again.

A capable person deserves to be squeezed dry, and even crying out in pain is just making trouble.

I went around her and opened the front door.

Behind me my father suddenly cried out.

"What are you doing!"

I turned, and my heart lurched.

Mom had already taken a kitchen knife from the kitchen and held it against her own throat.

"I don't want to live anymore."

"All these years and I raised an ingrate who'd rather trust an outsider than her own mother."

"What's the point of me living?"

Her sobbing drew the neighbors out.

Ruby Chavez from across the hall came out first.

"Mrs. Swanson, put the knife down, quick!"

The neighbors from upstairs crowded around too.

She pressed the blade tighter at once.

"Don't come any closer!"

"Not unless Layla promises to take good care of her sister from now on."

My father shouted at me. "Get over here and admit you're wrong!"

"If anything happens to your mother, I won't go on living either!"

The blade lay against her throat.

She cried and watched me at the same time.

I knew that look too well.

In elementary school, she'd looked at me like that when she knelt in front of the classroom podium.

Before the SATs, she'd looked at me like that when she knelt on the school field.

Watching for the moment I'd give in.

Ruby pulled at my arm.

"Layla, your mother went through a lot raising you. Can't you talk this out properly?"

The others started urging me too.

"Just agree first. If something happens to the old woman, it'll be too late."

"You can always earn money again, but you only get one life."

I badly wanted to tell them the one running out of life was me.

Seeing me not move, Mom made as if to slash her throat.

I lunged for her anyway.

I grabbed her wrist, and Ruby seized the chance to wrench the knife away.

In the chaos, Mom fell against me.

I thought she was terrified and caught her without thinking.

The next second she pulled my phone from my jacket pocket.

All the crying stopped short.

She opened the banking app with practiced ease and pointed the phone at my face.

Face ID failed.

She typed in the old password.

The screen showed: incorrect password.

I stood where I was, watching her fingers fly.

That last small thing in my chest finally went out.

So the wanting to die was fake.

Only her wanting to take my money was real.

My mother held up the phone and demanded, "What's the new password?"

I didn't answer. Tears slid down my face without a sound.

The neighbors glanced at each other.

Ruby looked at her, then at me.

"What in the world are you two fighting about?"

My mother clutched the phone in her hand and snapped,

"This older daughter of mine has a good job, a high salary. Her sister's feeling down and just wants to buy a bag, so I asked her to chip in, and she absolutely refuses."

"She's been like this since she was little. Cold, selfish, always keeping score with her own sister."

Several pairs of eyes turned to me.

Someone frowned.

"They're sisters. If you can help, you help."

My mother got her nerve back.

"You hear that? Everybody knows family matters more than money."

I wiped the corner of my eye and laughed.

She watched me warily.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I'm laughing because you left a few things out."

I turned to the neighbors.

"I was diagnosed with cancer. I'm waiting on that money to save my life."

"And she slipped me sleeping pills and transferred three hundred thousand out of my phone, just to book Wanda an overseas tour group."

"I just borrowed fifty thousand to get to the hospital, and now she's holding a knife on me to make me buy her sister a bag."

The stairwell went quiet.

Ruby's face darkened.

"Swanson, is what Layla's saying true?"

My mother shot back at once, "Cancer, my foot. Hospitals just love to scare people!"

"I bought her the medicine, she wouldn't take it herself, so whose fault is that?"

I pointed at the phone in her hand.

"So when you grabbed that knife just now, you weren't trying to kill yourself. You wanted to snatch my phone and move the money?"

That stopped her cold.

My father shoved his way forward.

"We're all family. Who said anything about snatching?"

"Wanda's just borrowing it for a while. When she has money later, she'll pay it back."

I looked him dead in the eye.

"The sixty thousand she borrowed off me in college, did she pay that back?"

"The hundred and twenty thousand she ran up on my credit card after she started working, did she pay that back?"

"The two hundred thousand she lost on that shop two years ago, did she pay any of that back?"

My father opened his mouth.

"You're the older sister. What are you doing counting it all up so carefully?"

Ruby couldn't hold it in.

"Sister or not, you don't take a person's medical money to buy a handbag."

Beside her, Leonard spoke up too.

"The girl's got cancer. Getting her to a hospital is what matters first."

My mother couldn't keep her face.

"You people don't know how much Wanda has suffered."

"She just got dumped, she's in a bad way, all alone overseas. If she does something to herself because she's got no money, who's going to answer for that?"

I looked at her.

"And me, wanting to stay alive. Who answers for that?"

My mother froze for a second.

Suddenly I couldn't hold back the tears.

"I just want to live."

"It took me five years of pinching pennies to save that three hundred thousand."

"I wouldn't spring for a cab, wouldn't replace my phone, worked through a fever to make deadlines."

"And what did it get me?"

"Wanda gets dumped, and that matters more than my life."

"Mom, what exactly did I do wrong?"

My mother's lips moved.

For a few seconds, a thread of hope actually rose in me.

Even just an apology. Even just an I didn't think it through.

But she was as righteous as ever.

"Whose fault is it you always had a mind of your own?"

"Wanda isn't like you. She can't manage without me."

That last, laughable bit of hope was gone too.

The phone suddenly rang.

The caller ID was the medical center.

My mother glanced down and answered it herself.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end asked, "Is this Ms. Layla Swanson?"

I reached for the phone.

My mother pulled it away.

"I'm her mother. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

The other end paused.

"The situation is rather urgent. We'd like Ms. Swanson to come in to the center with you."

"There may be a problem with the test results. We need to discuss it in person."

The anger drained out of my mother's face at once.

She turned to look at me, and there was almost a flicker of delight.

"See, I told you those hospitals aren't reliable. Maybe there's nothing wrong with you at all."

My father immediately pressed, "Then what are you standing around for? Go, quick."

On the way to the medical center, my mother wouldn't stop.

"They definitely got it wrong."

"I said it, you eat fine, you drink fine, how could you have cancer."

"When we get there, make them pay up. At least fifty thousand. Perfect, that'll buy Wanda her bag."

I turned and looked out the window.

She'd already divvied up a settlement that hadn't even been confirmed, sister's share and all.

At the medical center, the doctor who received us laid out two reports and gave us a bow.

"I'm very sorry. Due to an entry error by our staff, some of your test data for the two of you got mixed up."

He pushed the rechecked reports across.

"Ms. Layla Swanson, aside from a few minor issues, there's nothing wrong with your health at all."

I stared at the normal numbers on the report and, for a moment, couldn't take it in.

I wasn't sick?

I didn't have cancer?

A huge wave of joy surged up in me.

But all at once something registered, and my head snapped up toward the doctor.

"Then... then that report, the stomach cancer diagnosis..."

The doctor nodded gravely and pushed the other report in front of my mother.

"Ms. James, the one with cancer is you."

"And it's already late-stage."