Grandpa looked at my cousins and said, “No. I think I’ve helped you boys enough for one lifetime.”
Nobody laughed.
My cousin kept smiling for another second like he expected Grandpa to cave like always, but Grandpa just picked his iced tea back up and took a slow drink.
Then he said, “Matter of fact, let’s do this out loud for once. How much do you still owe me now?”
That smile disappeared fast.
A few relatives shifted in their lawn chairs immediately because everybody suddenly realized this conversation wasn’t following the usual script.
My cousin shrugged. “I don’t know exactly.”
Grandpa nodded toward him. “Eight hundred for the transmission last winter. Six hundred for rent in March. Four hundred after that ‘emergency dental bill’ that somehow turned into concert tickets two weeks later.”
You could hear my aunt mutter “Jesus Christ.”
The other cousin jumped in fast. “We always meant to pay you back.”
Grandpa gave this tired little laugh. “You mean the same way you meant to help me fix the fence three summers ago?”
Nobody said a word.
Then Grandpa pointed right at them with the glass in his hand. “You boys started treating me like I’m too confused to remember anything. But funny enough, I remember every dollar.”
One cousin actually looked down at his shoes.
And then Grandpa said the part that really embarrassed them.
“My neighbor Carl’s been mowing my lawn for free all year because he says that’s what decent people do for old folks. Meanwhile my own grandsons only come looking for me when they need cash.”
That one completely flattened them.
After that, nobody asked Grandpa for money the rest of the cookout. My cousins stayed near the cooler the whole evening avoiding eye contact while relatives suddenly got very interested in all those “emergencies” they’d supposedly had before.