Then she huffed. “Your mother would be ashamed of you, Emily.”
Ah, there it was.
A cheap, low-blow guilt trip because she had nothing else left.
I sighed. “Goodbye, Aunt Marie.”
And I hung up.
Lisa stared at me, eyes wide. “You hung up on her.”
“Yep.”
“You… you can’t just do that.”
“I can, and I did.”
Lisa looked completely lost. This was the first time ever that she wasn’t getting her way. No backup. No last-minute save. No safety net.
I saw her throat bob as she swallowed.
“Emily,” she tried again, her voice shaking now. “Please, just give me another chance.”
I looked at her, and for a split second, I almost felt bad.
Almost.
But then I remembered that video. The way she’d laughed. The way she’d called me dumb. The way she’d bragged to her friends about taking advantage of me.
And just like that, my sympathy disappeared.
“No, Lisa,” I said. “I think we’re way past second chances.”
Her face twisted in desperation. “I… I’ll pay rent. I swear. Just please don’t make me leave.”
I shook my head. “It’s not about the rent,” I said. “It’s about respect, and you lost mine a long time ago.”
She looked like she might argue, but I just turned and walked away.
30 days.
She had 30 days left, and I was going to enjoy watching the countdown.
Lisa spent the next few weeks cycling through every tactic she could think of.
First, she went back to denial.
She acted like nothing had changed, like I hadn’t handed her a formal notice. She still sprawled out on my couch, still blasted her obnoxious reality TV shows late into the night, still left her takeout containers on the kitchen counter for me to clean up.