I opened my laptop and logged into my bank accounts. For 2 years, I had paid the utility bills, the grocery deliveries, the streaming services, and the weekly house cleaners.
I navigated to the joint credit card I had given Nathan for household emergencies. Sarah had used it yesterday to buy designer shoes.
With three clicks, the card was frozen.
Next, I canled the weekly grocery delivery. I cancelled the premium cable package. I cancelled the house cleaning service.
Then I logged into my internet provider portal. I downgraded the gigabit speed they demanded for their gaming and streaming down to a basic plan, just enough for my email. I changed the Wi-Fi network name and password.
Every privilege they enjoyed in this house existed simply because I allowed it.
I didn’t feel angry anymore. I felt incredibly clear-headed. When you remove emotion from a situation, the solutions become painfully obvious.
I didn’t need to argue with them. I just needed to stop funding their lifestyle.
Downstairs, the dinner party ended early. The front door clicked shut as the last guest hurried out. I heard heavy footsteps stomping up the stairs.
Sarah banged on my bedroom door.
“Valerie opened the door.”
I adjusted my reading glasses and flipped open my novel. I ignored the knocking.
“Mom,” Nathan called out, his voice muffled through the wood. “We need to talk about what just happened.”
I turned the page.
“We didn’t need to talk at all.”
The talking phase was officially over. Tomorrow morning, they were going to learn exactly what it meant to live with a landlord.
I woke up before sunrise, exactly as I had every morning for the past two years. Usually, I would head downstairs, brew a large pot of premium coffee, prepare a hot breakfast, and leave it on the kitchen island for Nathan and Sarah before they started their day.
Not today.
I walked into the kitchen and pulled out my small French press. I measured just enough coffee grounds for a single mug. The rich aroma filled the quiet room.
I sat at the island with my tablet, sipping my coffee and watching the sun come up over the backyard.
At 8:00, Nathan shuffled into the kitchen wearing his pajamas. He rubbed his eyes, yawning, and reached blindly for the glass coffee pot.
His hand grasped empty air. He frowned, looking around the counter.