I never expected to hear those words from my own father. She’s nothing. A failure should have never been born.
My name is Audrey Foster, and at 31, I’d built what most people would consider a successful life. Every morning, my alarm would go off at 5 a.m., and I’d drag myself out of bed for an intense hour-long workout in the home gym I’d set up in the basement of my luxury home in the Chicago suburbs. After a protein smoothie and quick shower, I’d be out the door by 7.15, battling traffic to reach my downtown office at Hartman Financial Advisors.
My colleagues saw me as the perfect example of hard work paying off. After graduating with my MBA from Northwestern, I’d secured a position as a financial analyst and steadily worked my way up. Three promotions in five years had put me on the fast track, and my boss, Victoria Hayes, had taken me under her wing as a mentee.
It’s just temporary, sweetheart, mom had assured me. Just until we get back on our feet. Three years later, they were still there.
And I was still paying for everything, the mortgage, utilities, groceries, even their cell phone bills and car insurance. They contributed nothing financially, not even token amounts for household expenses. Dad spent his days applying for jobs he never seemed to get, while mom volunteered at church and met friends for lunch.
Every Wednesday evening, my sister Heather would bring her three kids over for family dinner. She’d married young to her high school boyfriend, Keith, had her first child at 21 and had dropped out of community college. Despite this, my parents beamed with pride whenever she walked through the door.
There’s our girl, dad would say, embracing her while barely acknowledging my presence. After these dinners, I’d retreat to my home office to catch up on work, exhaustion settling into my bones. The weight of supporting everyone was crushing, but I’d convinced myself it was my duty.
I was the successful one after all. This was what good daughters did. My best friend Zoe Curtis never understood.
Audrey, they’re taking advantage of you, she’d say during our rare lunch dates. They’re adults, they should be supporting themselves, not living off their daughter. They’re my parents, I’d reply, the familiar defense automatic by now.
Dad’s still looking for work, and mom never had a career. What am I supposed to do, throw them out on the street? Zoe would just shake her head, knowing there was no point arguing. She’d known me since college, watched me achieve every goal I set for myself, only to hand over the rewards to my family.
That Wednesday morning, I had an important presentation for a potential new client, a retirement fund worth millions. Victoria had entrusted me with the lead, a sign she was grooming me for the next level. Land this account, and we’ll be talking about that senior analyst position she’d promised.
As I straightened my blazer and checked my appearance one last time before leaving, I caught sight of my father in the kitchen, sipping coffee and scrolling through his phone. Big day today, dad, I said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice. Wish me luck.
He barely looked up. Sure, honey, good luck. I drove to work, pushing down the familiar sting of disappointment.
Today was about my career, about proving to Victoria and myself that I deserved that promotion. Today was about my future. Little did I know how drastically that future was about to change.
The presentation went better than I could have hoped. The clients were engaged, asking insightful questions, and by the end, they were nodding along with my recommendations. Victoria caught my eye across the conference room and gave me a subtle thumbs up.
As we wrapped up, the CEO of the retirement fund shook my hand firmly. Miss Foster, you’ve clearly done your homework. We’ll be in touch very soon.
After they left, Victoria pulled me aside. That was excellent work, Audrey. I think we’ve got them.
Take the rest of the day off. You’ve earned it. Excitement bubbled in my chest as I packed up my materials…
I couldn’t wait to share the news with someone. And despite everything, my parents were the first people I thought of. Maybe this time, dad would actually be proud.
I checked my watch. 2.30pm. They wouldn’t be expecting me for hours, which meant I could surprise them with the good news and maybe even suggest celebrating with dinner out. When I pulled into our driveway, I noticed both their cars were there.
Unusual for a Wednesday afternoon, mom usually had her book club. I entered quietly through the side door that led directly to the kitchen, planning to announce my early arrival and my success. But then I heard my father’s voice coming from his bedroom, which he’d converted into a home office of sorts.
He was on a video call, his voice carrying clearly down the hallway. Yeah, Stan, we’re still living with her. What choice do we have? The housing market is ridiculous these days.
I recognized the voice on the other end as Stanley Bennett, my father’s friend from his construction days. I was about to call out when something in my father’s tone made me pause. Hold on, let me end this call properly.
