How little they knew me.
In my closet sat a file folder I hadn’t touched in years. It held the documentation for the property and the monthly expenses.
I pulled out a pen and started doing the math.
The era of free living was officially over.
The next morning, they were all at the breakfast table—my table.
I walked in, but not to sit down.
I laid three envelopes on the table.
One for Travis, one for Brooke, and one for Mrs. Gable.
“What’s this, a scavenger hunt?” Brooke mocked.
She opened her envelope, and the color drained from her face instantly.
It was a breakdown of the utility costs for the last three years that they had never paid, along with a formal notice terminating their rent-free stay in the upstairs suite.
“You can’t kick us out. We’re family,” Travis stammered, horrified.
I remained calm.
“Starting next month, the upstairs will be rented out at market value. If you want to stay, you sign this lease. If not, you have 30 days.”
Brooke laughed hysterically.
“And who’s going to enforce that? You?”
I looked her dead in the eye.
“I’ve already ordered smart locks for the interior doors. My living area downstairs is now private. Mrs. Gable, your visit ends tonight at 6:00 p.m. Since you were so worried about short circuits, I’ve already deactivated the outlets in the guest room.”
Mrs. Gable gasped.
“This is outrageous after everything we do for you.”
I cut her off immediately.
“What have you done? You shut off my power while a Category 4 hurricane was bearing down on my home. You weren’t protecting me. You were disposing of me.”
I turned to Travis.
“You have a choice. Either you’re a tenant here and you follow the rules, or you find your own place. But being my son doesn’t exempt you from the responsibilities of being a man.”
I didn’t wait for an answer.
I grabbed the dogs’ leashes and went for a walk.
When I got back, Mrs. Gable’s car was gone.