You’re nine years old and have been friends with these people for a while, but they haven't been over to your house. Finally, you’re all free to roam around and happen to be in your neighborhood, so you and your friends walk to your house. As you approach the house, you start to slow down, “Right here.” You can almost feel the stares, the silence. You hold your breath. You know what's coming, the question you don’t know how to answer…
“I didn’t realize how fancy your house was…OMG, are you rich?
You stand there for a second, give off a light chuckle, suddenly feeling guilty for being better off than your friends. You try not to make a big deal out of it. You don’t understand what rich is anyways. You don’t live in a mansion or walk around with wads of money. You don’t know that your normal vacations are a once-in-a-lifetime experience for your friends. All you know is that everyone around you keeps asking how much money your parents make. You pull out your classic answer, “No, we aren’t rich. My mom is an interior designer…it’s her job to make things look nice.” It’s not a total lie, your mom IS an interior designer, but maybe you are rich… you just don’t know. Your friends seem content with this answer. You aren’t rich, just lucky to have a talented mom. You’re relieved that they don’t see you as something different, separate from them. Yet when they step inside, you see disbelief trickle into their faces.
You are tired of the obnoxious, blindly blurted lines…
Omg, are you rich?
Woah, your house is so nice.
Do you have your own car?
Can I have some money?
Can you buy me this?
Will you let me have that?
How much money do you have?
What does your dad make?
You are tired of not knowing the answer. You’re tired of everyone being so jealous when all you want is to see your dad more than twice a week.
You grew up, and you understand that you are rich, but you also know that we live in a city, we fly on ordinary planes, we avoid taking Ubers because they are too expensive, and there's $20 in your bank account. You are not rich. Your parents are. But your parents don’t talk about it. Your parents don’t feel guilty about their money. No one sees that money and happiness are so far apart. No one sees that you would have given up that life in a second to see your dad. You’re grown up but still don’t know how to answer the questions, so you just stopped inviting people over. It’s easier if no one knows. Even writing this, you’re unsure, will they think you’re arrogant or just snobby and privileged? You hope not, and you need them to know this isn’t just a complaint but your life. But when they start to find out… What do you do?