Then, on the fifteenth of the month, a heavy envelope arrived from the mortgage lender. It was an urgent notice stating that the account was past due and delinquent.
My mother immediately assumed there was a bank error or that I was being petty. She tried to call my old cell phone number to deploy her usual arsenal of guilt trips.
She was met with a sterile automated message saying the number was no longer in service. Panic began to set in as she realized she couldn’t reach me at all.
Two days later, Shane tried to log into the internet portal because his gaming connection had been cut off. He found the payment method erased and the account overdrawn.
“Where did she go?” Shane had reportedly screamed while tearing through my empty old bedroom. He was searching for any clue as to where his personal ATM had hidden itself.
They called my old office demanding to speak with me, only to be told I no longer worked at that branch. The receptionist informed them that I had relocated to Europe and my contact info was private.
The realization hit them like a freight train as they sat in a dark house they could not afford. They were facing imminent mortgage default while relying on a man who hadn’t held a job in years.
By the third month, the bank initiated formal foreclosure proceedings against my mother. Without my money to serve as a buffer, the relationship between my mother and Shane shattered.
My mother began demanding that Shane find a job to save them from homelessness. Shane was entirely unequipped for the workforce and blamed my mother for not forcing me to stay.
Desperation breeds a special kind of humiliation, and my mother eventually sent a mass email to the entire family. She begged anyone with contact info for me to tell me they were desperate.
“Andrea, please, the bank is taking the house and Shane can’t find work fast enough,” the email pleaded. “I am so sorry if he hurt your feelings, but you cannot abandon your family like this.”
My cousin added a note saying that Shane was screaming at her constantly and the house was a disaster zone. I read the email while sitting at a sunlit cafe in Amsterdam with a warm latte.
