It was freedom.
But there were also moments when doubt crept through the cracks in my determination.
On the fourth day, I decided to return to the city.
I had things to resolve, promises to keep.
I couldn’t hide in the mountains forever, as tempting as it was.
As I drove back, I mentally rehearsed the conversations I would have to have with the bank, with the insurance company, with the lawyers if necessary.
I arrived at my apartment in the city at noon.
The answering machine was blinking with 15 new messages.
I listened to them all while making coffee.
Three were from Sharon, each one more desperate than the last.
Four were from unknown numbers that were probably Joe and Lucy trying to communicate from other phones.
Five were from family friends clearly contacted by Robert to intercede.
And three were from the bank.
I started with the bank.
I called the number they had left and a representative answered.
“Vicente Mrs. Martin. He said we’re calling because we noticed you canled your monthly automatic transfer. We wanted to confirm if this was intentional or if there was an error in the system.”
“It was completely intentional,” I replied firmly.
“I want to remove my monthly contribution to my son’s mortgage, and I also need to talk about removing my name as co-signer on his car loan.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
I could hear rapid typing.
“I understand. Regarding the car, your son would have to refinance the loan without you as a co-signer, which would require him to qualify on his own. Do you want us to send the necessary documentation?”
“Yes, please.”
“And regarding the mortgage, without your monthly contribution, the payment would increase by $800. Is your son aware of this change?”
“He is aware,” I said, although I didn’t know if he had really processed the magnitude of what it meant.
“He will have to find a way to cover the full amount.”
“Very well, we will process the changes.
“Just to inform you, if there were three consecutive missed payments, the bank would initiate foreclosure proceedings.”
“I understand.
“Thank you for the information.”
I hung up and stared at the phone.
3 months.
Robert had three months to find $800 extra each month.
It was possible if they reduced expenses.
If Sharon worked more hours.
If they stopped living beyond their means.
But it would require sacrifice.
Discipline.
Maturity.
The phone rang almost immediately.
It was a number I didn’t recognize, but I decided to answer.
“Alice?”
It was Lucy’s voice, trembling, pleading.
“Please don’t hang up. I need to talk to you.”
I took a deep breath.
“What do you want, Lucy?”
“I came to the bank this morning with Robert. They told us you canled everything.
“The car insurance.
“Your part of the mortgage.
“Alice, we can’t afford all that.
“Robert earns $1,800 a month.
“The full mortgage is 1,400.
“The car insurance is 300.
“The bills for electricity, water, and internet are another 250.
“How are we going to live on $150 a month?”
I did the math quickly in my head.
“Lucy, if Robert earns 1,800 and the full mortgage is $1,400, that leaves $400, not $150.”
“But the car insurance, the car insurance that you were paying—”
“If you can’t pay for it, then you can’t have the car,” I interrupted her.
“It’s that simple.
“Sell the car.
“Buy something cheaper that you can maintain.
“Use public transport.
“Look for alternatives.
“But it’s no longer my problem.”
“Sharon also works,” Lucy continued quickly. “She earns 900 a month. Uh, that gives us 2,700 in total.”
“Then you have enough,” I said, calculating.
“1,400 for the mortgage.
“300 for insurance if you decide to keep the car.
“250 for utilities.
“That’s 1,950.
“That leaves you 750 for food, gas, and other expenses.
“It’s tight, but it’s possible.”
“But we also live there,” Lucy said, her voice going up an octave.
“Joe and I need to eat. We need our medications. Joe has to go to the doctor every month. That costs $120 because we don’t have insurance.”
And there was the real reason the numbers weren’t working.
It wasn’t just Robert and Sharon.
It was four adults living on the income of two.
And one of them had significant medical expenses.
“Lucy, how old are you and Joe?”
“67.
“And neither of us works.
“Joe had a heart attack 2 years ago. He can’t work.
“And I take care of him.”
I felt a twinge of something akin to compassion, but I kept it at bay.
This wasn’t cruelty on my part.
It was reality.
“Lucy, understand something.
“I am also close to 70.
“I also have medical expenses.
“I also get tired.
“The difference is that I worked my whole life to secure my future.
“I saved.
“I invested.
“I prepared.
“And now that I could finally rest, I discovered I was supporting six people besides myself.”
“But we’re family.”
“Being family doesn’t mean I have to sacrifice my financial security for yours,” I said firmly.
“Especially after how you treated me.
“You invaded my property.
“You disrespected me.
“You called me a trespasser.
“And now you want me to keep paying your bills.”
There was silence on the other side.
Then I heard sobbing.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do,” Lucy cried.
“We have nowhere to go.
“We don’t have any savings.
“If Robert loses the house, we’ll be on the street.”
“Then Robert needs to find a second job,” I said without emotion.
“Sharon, too.
“You need to apply for government medical assistance for Joe.
“You need to look for cheaper apartments.
“Places you can afford with your real income.
“You need to live within your means, like millions of people do every day.”
“But—”
“There are no buts, Lucy.
“I made my decision.
“You now have to make yours.
“I sincerely wish you the best.
“But I am no longer your solution.”
I hung up before she could respond.
My hands were trembling, not from doubt, but from the intensity of maintaining my position against years of conditioning that screamed at me to give in, to help, to sacrifice myself one more time.
Two hours later, I received a text message from an unknown number.