"Fine, Mom. Since we're being honest with each other, let's do it thoroughly."
"To be fair, let Dad and Alex go first. Screenshot their browser history and send it in the group chat."
"As long as they dare to send it, I'll follow immediately—even if I have to show the receipt for my tampons."
"@Lola Lawrence Mom, go ahead and push them first?"
The group chat went dead silent.
I knew it—she only liked singling me out to feel important.
I thought of three years ago, when Lola had just switched to a smartphone.
Back then she didn't even know how to send a voice message. I sat on the couch and taught her hand-in-hand for an entire afternoon.
How to download Amazon, how to claim Uber Eats coupons, how to snag deals on Temu.
Back then, she smiled and tugged my hand. "Maya's always been the most thoughtful—puts those two grown men to shame."
To make shopping easier for her, I set her up with a linked payment account on my card. Two-thousand-dollar monthly limit.
I figured an elderly woman buying groceries and household basics wouldn't need more than that.
But it wasn't just the card.
I pulled up my own order history.
Peanut oil, two jugs—shipped to my in-laws' place.