Chapter 1The Price of a Washing Machine: A Daughter's Rebellion

After spending $600 to buy my mom a new washing machine, she did nothing but complain that it didn't wash clean.

"Honestly, you're pretty calculating. You didn't even split the $10 you got from selling the old washer with your sister; you just pocketed it yourself."

My face suddenly flushed. I thought she was joking, so I forced an awkward smile and asked her why she would think that.

She rolled her eyes at me and changed the subject:

"This piece of junk washer leaves the sheets and duvet covers soaking wet."

I took a look and realized she was using the 15-minute "Quick Wash" cycle.

As I adjusted the settings for larger loads and explained which cycles to use for which clothes, she pushed me aside and stubbornly turned the dial back to "Quick Wash."

"Your sister said Quick Wash saves water and is gentler on clothes."

She got angrier as she spoke, slamming the laundry basket down. "You calculate every little thing! It's not like you're paying the water bill, so of course you don't care. Unlike your sister, who considers everything for us."

My heart went cold. I called the junk hauler, paid him $20 to buy the old washer back, and moved the new one into my own apartment.

* * *

I got an $800 bonus from a project at work, and I immediately thought of the washing machine at my parents' house. It was over a decade old, the kind of ancient machine where you had to manually take the wet clothes out and put them into a separate spin-dryer tub.

Sometimes, when washing heavy items, they would soak up so much water that it was a huge struggle for my mom to lift them. She'd almost thrown her back out several times.

I specifically took half a day off on delivery day. Watching the junk hauler carry away the old washer, I felt a warm glow inside, thinking about how surprised and happy my mom would be when she got home.

My mom came back from her Zumba class, opened the door, and froze.

Still holding her workout towel, she stood in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at the new washing machine for a long time.

"Where's the old one?" she asked.

"Sold it to the junk guy," I said, wiping down the control panel of the new machine. "Only got ten bucks for it."

Her expression instantly changed, and she threw her towel onto the sofa with a smack.

"Who gave you permission to make that decision?!" Her voice was shrill enough to startle me. "That washer still worked fine!"

I thought she was just being her usual frugal self, so I hurried to explain. "Mom, this new one is energy-efficient and quiet, and it can..."

"Spendthrift!" she cut me off, turning on her heel and marching into the kitchen.

She turned the faucet on full blast, vigorously scrubbing a dishcloth that didn't even need washing, as if she were venting her anger.

She didn't speak to me for the rest of the night, not even touching the macarons I had specially bought for her.

Two days later, while I was at work, my phone suddenly rang.

As soon as I answered, I heard her yelling on the other end: "What kind of piece of junk washing machine did you buy?! It doesn't wash clean at all!"

When I rushed over, she was pulling bedsheets out of the drum.

Detergent had clumped together, sticking to the soaking wet fabric, and water was dripping down, forming a small puddle on the floor.

I crouched down to check what was wrong.

"Honestly, you're pretty calculating," she said suddenly.

My fingers paused, and I looked up at her.

She was scrubbing the outside of the washing machine hard with a rag, not even looking at me. "You didn't even split the ten bucks you got from selling the old washer with your sister; you just pocketed it yourself."

I thought I misheard her. "Huh?"

"Ten dollars." She finally straightened up and threw the rag heavily into the sink. "You even scheme over such a petty amount of money."

My face suddenly burned. I laughed awkwardly. "Mom, why would you think that..."

She rolled her eyes at me and turned to pull the duvet cover out of the drum. "This piece of junk washer leaves the sheets and duvet covers soaking wet."

Only then did I notice she had been using the 15-minute "Quick Wash" cycle. No wonder the detergent hadn't even fully dissolved.

As I adjusted the settings for larger loads and explained which cycles to use for which clothes, she pushed me aside and stubbornly turned the dial back to "Quick Wash."

"Your sister said Quick Wash saves water and is gentler on clothes."

She got more agitated as she spoke, slamming the laundry basket down heavily. "You calculate every little thing! It's not like you're paying the water bill, so of course you don't care. Unlike your sister, who considers everything for us."