Part 3My Phone Made Me A Millionaire

The following weekend, Mark and I went to his parents' house for dinner.

Mark’s mother, Barbara Grant, pulled me into a long hug the moment I walked in, immediately followed by a meticulous inspection.

"Stephanie dear, what have you been up to lately?"

"Working," I said.

"Working? Still doing that…" She mimed a slow, lazy swipe of a screen. "That thing?"

Mark was changing his shoes by the door. He interjected without looking up. "Mom, it's just a hobby. Something she does to pass the time."

I shot him a look, but he didn't meet my gaze.

"Stephanie, I'm going to be honest with you." Barbara guided me to the couch, her tone heavy with concern. "A woman needs a proper, stable job. Look at Mark. He works so hard, busting his butt for over eight thousand a month. What kind of example are you setting, playing on your phone at home?"

I said nothing.

"Find an office job. Even if the pay isn't great, it's respectable." She patted my hand. "If you keep this up, think of the stress you’re putting on Mark."

Mark walked over from the entryway and stood beside his mother.

"She has a point, Stephanie. Why can’t you just get a real job?"

I looked at him.

This man, who had stood before me two years ago and promised, "I support whatever you choose to do."

"I understand," I said.

That night, back home, my best friend Sasha texted me. Stephanie, you seriously need to tell them what you’re doing.

No need, I replied.

How is there no need? You make more money than their entire family combined. Why are you letting them talk to you like that?

I stared at the text and didn't reply.

Why?

Because they had never once asked what I was doing, choosing instead to only see me "staring at a phone at home."

And mostly, because I didn't feel like explaining. Explaining to people who have already decided they won't believe you is the most pointless waste of energy.