Chapter 3 — My Parents Lived in AA for 45 Years

I stared at the thick file on the table. The profile cover has only one simple line of text.

“Forty-five years of records.”

The man in a black suit opened his briefcase, took out another business card and gave it to his mother.

"I am lawyer Chu. I have collated and completely arranged the documents you previously sent me."

Mom nodded.

“I'm bothering you.”

“This is my responsibility.”

Lawyer Chu looked at me and smiled politely.

“Are you Niem Niem?”

I nodded slightly.

“From today, you should also know some things.”

Having finished speaking, he opened the file. The first thing that appeared before my eyes was not a contract or legal documents. It's a faded blue-covered notebook. The four corners of the window are all worn out. The edge of the paper has turned yellow. Apparently it has been around for a long time. Mom gently stroked the cover of the notebook, her eyes softened.

“This is the first book.”

“Since the year I married your father.”

I sat down next to him. Mom slowly opened the first page. Neat handwriting appears. October 16, 1979. Married today. I will try to take good care of this family. Just one sentence. No mention of money at all. No mention of difficulty. Next page. Buy a rice cooker. 186 yuan. Buy winter comforters. 92 yuan. Money for husband's cold medicine. 18 yuan. The notes below are very clear. Payer: me. I raised my head to look at my mother. Mom just smiled softly.

“At that time, I thought, write it down so that when you are old, you will still remember it.”

Lawyer Chu continued. Every year there is one volume. Not a single year is missing. Since my mother was twenty-something years old. Until now. Forty-five volumes. Forty-five years. No interruption. I picked up the book of the year I was born. The first page reads: May 23. A daughter was born. Right below are detailed notes. Hospital fees. Health examination fee. They all have the same bottom line. Payer: me. I couldn't help but ask:

“So… what about dad?”

Mom turned another page. In the right corner there is only a very short line. Dad pays half of the hospital fees. Then there's the dash. Not a single comment. Not a word of complaint. Just the truth. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. Lawyer Chu continued to take out stacks of invoices.

“These have all been preserved intact.”

He opened a stack of papers. That's the electricity bill. Then the water bill. Next is my elementary school tuition receipt. English class. Art class. Even the receipt for my first bike is still there. I was bewildered.

“Do you keep everything?”

Mother nodded slightly.

“Even when I moved house several times, I didn't give up.”

I lowered my head to look at the pile of paper nearly half a meter high. Suddenly remembered. Every time I clean the house. Mom hugged that iron box first. I once asked. What's so valuable in it? Mom just laughed.

“These are things that cannot be lost.”

All the years of the whole family. Lawyer Chu opened another book.

“When she was in high school.”

I looked in. The date is written all over the page. Money for extra Math lessons. Money for extra Literature classes. College exam preparation money. Uniform money. Boarding fees. At the bottom of the page. There is one more line. Your father said each person would pay half. I have closed the rest. I bit my lip. Memories of that year came back. I used to think my dad was very good. At least he still paid for me to go to school. Now I know. He only left out the part he considered "reasonable". And all the arising expenses. It's all the mother quietly making up for it. No one know. No one mentioned. My mother also never told me about her achievements. I suddenly remembered the day I was hospitalized for pneumonia. I was only ten years old then. Mom stayed up many nights. And dad only came by once. Put the envelope down.

“I transferred half of the hospital fees.”

At that time, I still thought naively. He really thought that just paying was enough. I turned to the year I got married. Tears suddenly fell. That page only contains one sentence. Today my daughter got married. Below is a long list. Deposit to buy a house. Decorative money. Money to buy household appliances. Wedding gold coins. Mom wrote very small. It's okay for a girl to have a good life. Not recorded at all. She drained all her savings. Not recorded at all. After that day, she had to eat instant noodles for a whole month. She just writes. A happy girl is enough. I can't hold it anymore. Tears fell down each page.

“How many years…”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

Mom pulled out a tissue to wipe my tears like when I was a kid.

“Speaking for what?”

“Let me hate you, dad?”

“Or make me feel guilty?”

I choked up and shook my head. Mom smiled.

“It's enough for you to live happily.”

“These things were not written for anyone to see.”

“It was my mother who wrote it for herself.”

“Because people forget when they get old.”

“But not paper.”

Lawyer Chu gently closed the notebook.

“I have been a lawyer for more than twenty years.”

“This is the first time I've seen someone take such complete notes.”

“Every bill.”

“Every document.”

“Every expense.”

“There is a time, a place and a payer.”

He looked at his mother with eyes full of respect.

“It's not like you prepared these things for revenge.”

Mom smiled softly.

“I just don't want someone to say later that I lived forty-five years in this family and did nothing.”

The whole room suddenly fell silent.