Just like that.
“Unblock it. They need more.”
I told them both:
“Return the money. All of it. And we’ll be done with this.”
My mother laughed.
Actually laughed a little.
She said there was no money to return.
It was already gone.
Paid to the people Chris owed.
So I said:
“Fine. Police.”
And that’s when her whole face changed.
She said—and I’m not exaggerating here—if I contacted the police, she would tell them I gave her the card myself.
That I handed it to her.
That I gave her the PIN.
And here’s the thing.
I had before.
Not for this.
Not for $30,000.
But there were times she needed to grab cash for medications or that one time she paid for Dad’s dental work.
That was $5,000.
And I’d said yes.
“Here. Use my card.”
She asked first.
Always asked.
And I said yes.
She knew that.
She was counting on that.
She said she had witnesses.
The neighbor from across the street.
My aunt.
People who’d seen her use my card before with my permission.
She said she’d tell everyone I gave it to her and then changed my mind after we fought.
She said Dad would back her up.
Chris would too.
I stood there in their kitchen.
The clock on the wall was ticking.
I remember that.
Just that stupid ticking.
I didn’t say anything.
There was nothing to say.
She’d already built the whole story.
I turned around and walked out.
Got in my car.