My Two Boxes of Ledgers
On the table were eight dishes, including braised pork, steamed fish, and Harry Lincoln's favorite—cola chicken wings.
Mother was holding Yolanda Scott's hand as she spoke, the silver bracelet on her finger swinging gently.
Yolanda is Harry Lincoln's girlfriend; she was specially invited today to meet everyone.
When the conversation turned to the bride price, Mother suddenly sighed and turned to look at me.
"Viola, do you still remember how, when you were little, we spent all our family savings on your medical treatment?"
The conversation came to an abrupt halt, and everyone's eyes turned to me.
Yolanda was momentarily stunned and instinctively looked at Harry, her eyes showing a trace of confusion.
Harry Lincoln immediately replied, his voice full of grievance: "Exactly, sis. If you hadn't spent so much money back then, how could I not even have enough for the down payment on the wedding house now?"
Mother nodded in agreement, wiping the corner of her eye: "Yolanda, you know it hasn't been easy for our family. Could the bride price be lowered a bit?"
"Viola, you are the elder sister—you should help her younger brother."
The relatives echoed the sentiment. Third Aunt said, "Family should support each other," while Uncle said, "Viola has a stable job now; it's only right she contributes some money."
I bit into the braised pork; its rich aroma spread in my mouth, yet inside I felt completely hollow.
I put down my chopsticks, stood up, and went into the room to pull out a small cart.
On the small cart were two storage boxes: the blue one marked '2005-2015' and the gray one '2016-2024.'
"Mom, you said a lot was spent on my medical treatment when I was little. Do you remember exactly which year and month, and how much?"
I opened the blue box and took out the ledger on top. "I've been keeping track all these years; let's check it together."
Mother's expression shifted, her eyes flickering away slightly: "It's been so long, how could I remember the details? Anyway, it was a lot of money."
I smiled softly, my fingers gliding over the yellowed cover of the ledger.
This ledger is something I began keeping when I was three.
Back then, I couldn't fully recognize the characters, so many were replaced with pinyin or drawings.
The first time I saw Mother's ledger was when I was five years old.
That day, while searching for socks in Mother's wardrobe, I found a red cloth pouch containing two notebooks.
One was very thin, with 'Harry Lincoln' written on the cover; the other was thicker, bearing the name 'Viola Lincoln.'
Holding the notebooks, I asked Mother, "What is this?"
Mother snatched the ledger roughly, stuffed it into a cloth bag, and said sternly, "Don't be silly. This records the money you spent from the family funds, which you all have to pay back later."
I was upset. Harry Lincoln clearly had more clothes and toys than I did, so why was his ledger thinner?
I argued with Mother, telling her her records were wrong.
Mother raised her hand and slapped me. My cheek burned with pain, and she punished me by forbidding me from having dinner.
Mother locked the cloth bag in the drawer. "If you ever dare to go through my things again, I'll break your legs!"
That night, I was hungry all alone, curled up under the blanket crying, but inside I clenched my fists—I would keep my own account and record every single expense clearly.
From then on, every day I carried my little notebook to jot things down.
If I couldn't write a word, I'd ask my kindergarten teacher. If I could not understand the teacher, I'd draw little pictures instead: bought an ice cream bar, I'd draw a small square with '1 dollar’ beside it; Wore my cousin's old clothes, I'd draw a little skirt with '0 dollar' written next to it.
To make the ledger more credible, I developed the habit of keeping receipts.
Whether it was a supermarket shopping receipt, a pharmacy payment slip, or even a receipt for a single spicy snack, I would carefully tuck it into the ledger.
The old phone at home was barely usable; the photos were blurry, but I still used it to take pictures for record-keeping.
Harry Lincoln's new toys, the new shoes Mother bought for him, the meals we ate at home—anything involving spending money, I photographed and saved in the phone's album.
Later, when I went to school and learned to recognize more characters, the ledger became clearer and more detailed.
I compared Mother's ledger and only then realized it wasn't true bookkeeping—she was clearly showing favoritism.
When Harry Lincoln bought a Transformer, Mother recorded it as "toy, 50 dollars"; but when I bought a workbook, she noted "books, 200 dollars."
When Harry Lincoln bought fever medicine because he was sick, Mother recorded it as "medical expenses, 30 dollars"; yet when I had a cold and cough, she recorded "medical expenses, 500 dollars."
I marked all these discrepancies and slipped them inside my own ledger.
I also researched many similar cases online and wrote notes in my notebook, just in case Mother tried to use her ledger to "collect debts" from me someday.
After graduating from university, I moved to another city for work and rarely returned home.
Mother's favoritism towards sons over daughters is something I chose to ignore for my own peace of mind. I thought she would have eased up by now, but I didn't expect her to hold back such a big 'surprise.'
"Mom, you don't remember, but I do."
I opened a ledger from a blue box and found the page from 2008: "June 14, 2008, Harry Lincoln had a fever of 39 degrees Celsius and went to the hospital for a check-up; it was pneumonia."
I took out a crumpled hospital payment receipt and handed it to Mother: "This is the payment slip from that day. It says 'Harry Lincoln' on it, and the amount is 1280 dollars."
“Back then, you even borrowed 13,000 dollars from Madam Warren next door, saying it was to buy imported medicine for Harry Lincoln.”
Mother's face grew even paler, her lips trembling as she said, "I... I must have been mistaken; perhaps I confused you with Harry."
"Confused?" I took out another photo, snapped with an old phone. Though blurry, the image was clear enough.
"This was taken on June 15th. I'm sitting at Madam Warren's table, eating plain boiled noodles."
“Madam Warren said that day you made chicken soup, but you only gave it to Harry Lincoln; you didn't save a single spoonful for me.”
Harry grew anxious and reached out to grab my photo. "Sis, don't talk nonsense. How could Mom possibly withhold your meal?"
"Why don't you ask Third Aunt?" I looked at Third Aunt. "Third Aunt, in the summer of 2008, didn't you come to our house to deliver eggs? Didn't you see Harry drinking chicken soup while I was eating a steamed bun?"
Third Aunt hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "It seems... that did happen."
Mother's hand began to tremble.
She picked up the glass of water on the table and took a sip. "Even if I did that because Harry was sick back then, I raised you all these years after all, spending hundreds of thousands, right?"
I took out the calculator and set it on the table.
"From 2005 to 2017, throughout my years from primary to high school, compulsory education fees totaled 1,280 dollars. Most of the clothes were hand-me-downs from my cousin; only three were new, totaling 360 dollars. For meals, I estimated 10 dollars per day, which over 12 years adds up to 43,800 dollars. There were also other miscellaneous expenses, like stationery and cold medicine, totaling 2,172.08 dollars."
I pressed the equals button on the calculator, and the screen displayed: 67,532.08 dollars.
"Mom, this is all the money you've spent raising me, down to the last cent."
I pushed the calculator towards Mother. "I'm giving you 600 dollars every month. Over a year, that's 7,200 dollars. In less than ten years, it'll be fully repaid."
Mother stared at the numbers on the calculator, suddenly stood up, and slammed the table hard. "Ungrateful! I raised you all these years, and this is how you repay me?"
Her voice was loud enough to make the bowls and dishes on the table tremble.
Before I could say a word, I saw Mother's body go limp, and she collapsed straight down.
"Call 911 immediately!" Third Aunt screamed, and everyone instantly panicked.
I took out my phone and dialed 120, then pulled the new ledger from my bag, opened to a page, and wrote: "September 17, 2024, Mother fainted, called 120, waiting for the ambulance."
The ambulance arrived quickly, and I got on board, still holding the new ledger in my hands.
Harry Lincoln and the relatives also arrived at the hospital—a boisterous crowd that looked more like they were heading to a market fair.
At the hospital, I paid a 2000 dollar deposit for admission.
After receiving the payment receipt, I immediately photographed it and recorded in the ledger: "September 17, 2024, Mother's hospital deposit 2000 dollars, photo of payment receipt attached."
Harry Lincoln saw me keeping accounts and laughed angrily, "Mom is already in the hospital, and you still have the mood to keep track of these? Are you out of your mind?"
I closed the ledger and looked at him, "I'm not out of my mind; I just don't want to be smeared with dirty accusations."
"What do you mean by that?" Harry frowned. "She is your biological mother; how could she possibly wrongly accuse you?"
"Of course she can." I remembered being unfairly accused of stealing money as a child. "In third grade, you lost 50 dollars, and she said I stole it. She locked me outside the door to stand as punishment all afternoon, only to later find the money had fallen between the sofa cushions."
Harry Lincoln's face flushed red; he opened his mouth but didn't speak.
The doctor said Mother fainted from acute stress, which caused her blood pressure to rise and led to insufficient blood supply to her brain.
It wasn't serious—she just needed a few days in the hospital for observation.
I stayed at the hospital to care for Mother, but as soon as she woke up, she pointed at me and shouted, "You calculating, ungrateful wretch. I never should have given birth to you!"
I didn't argue. Instead, I turned and walked out of the ward, found a bench to sit on, and started fiddling with my phone.
After half an hour, I called the nurse's station to check on Mother's emotional state.
The nurse said Mother was still scolding, so I didn't return to the ward.
At dinner, I bought Mother a bowl of white porridge and a plate of green vegetables.
Mother looked at the food, her expression darkening: "Is this all you're giving me? Where's Harry Lincoln? Tell him to bring me some chicken soup!"
"Harry Lincoln is at home playing video games and doesn't have time to come."
I set the porridge on the bedside table and said, "The doctor said you should eat light food. White porridge and green vegetables are just right."
Mother said nothing and didn't eat the porridge; she just sat on the bed, glaring at me.
I ignored her and sat on the chair beside her, took out the ledger, and continued recording the day's expenses.
The following days were all like this.
Whenever Mother scolded me, I would leave; when she stopped, I brought her white porridge and green vegetables; if she asked for something else to eat, I told her, "The doctor forbade it."
After a few times, Mother calmed down; although her expression remained sour when she saw me, she never scolded me again.
I had planned to take care of her after she was discharged, but that day, returning from the supermarket with some fruit, I heard Mother's voice coming from the ward.
"Don't be fooled by Viola taking care of me every day. Deep down, she's not filial at all—she's not even as good as Harry."
"Although Harry hasn't come, he calls me every day to ask whether I'm eating well and sleeping well."
I pushed the door open and walked inside.
When Mother saw me, her face stiffened, and she instinctively fell silent.
The woman sharing the ward with me smiled awkwardly and turned to look out the window.
"Mom, you said Harry Lincoln calls you every day?"
I put the fruit on the table and took out the ledger. "On October 8th, I called Harry Lincoln fifteen times, and he didn't answer once."
“On October 9th, he answered a call and spoke for 50 seconds, saying, 'Sis, stop bothering me, I'm playing games.' On October 10th, he neither answered the phone nor replied to any messages.”
I opened the ledger and pointed to the entries for Mother to see: “You say he's filial, yet he hasn't even visited the hospital once; I take care of you every day, but you tell others I'm unfilial.”
Mother's face flushed red, then turned pale as she opened her mouth: “I... I was just speaking without thinking.”
"Speaking without thinking isn't acceptable either." I picked up the fruit on the table and put it into a bag, saying, “If you believe Harry Lincoln is filial, then let him take care of you from now on.”
Mother quickly grabbed my hand. "Viola, I was wrong. Please don't leave."
I shook off her hand and put the ledger into my bag. "I'm not leaving; I'm just moving to a hotel to stay."
"If you need anything, call Harry Lincoln. He's so devoted to his family; he'll definitely come."
After saying that, I turned and walked out of the hospital room without looking back.
Later, I heard that Mother had called Harry many times, but he only came to the hospital two full days later.
When he arrived, he didn't really take care of me; he just hired a caregiver and then went back home to play games.
When Mother was discharged from the hospital, Harry Lincoln argued with her over the bill settlement.
A few days after she was discharged, Mother called me on a video call.
She wore an old coat, her hair was messy, and she looked exhausted.
"Viola, I want to talk to you about something." She rubbed her hands anxiously. "Give me 500,000, and I won't bother you anymore. We'll sever all ties."
I looked at her and couldn't help but chuckle. "500,000? Mom, do you know how much I make in a month? I send you 600 every month—that's already the most I can afford."
"What can 600 dollars possibly cover?" Mother grew anxious, raising her voice considerably, "I raised you all these years, and this is all the money you give me? Your younger brother still needs money to get married!"
"Harry Lincoln getting married has nothing to do with me." I leaned against the sofa, my tone calm, "I've already given you money according to the standard you raised me by back then— not a penny more."
Seeing my firm stance, Mother began to threaten me: "If you don't give me the money, I'll sue you! I'll accuse you of being unfilial!"
I shrugged indifferently. "Go ahead and sue."
After speaking, I hung up and blocked Mother's number.
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