How dare you make up lies about supporting us. We’ve never taken a dime from you.
Then bargaining.
Even if you did help out occasionally, family helps family. That’s what you’re supposed to do.
Then guilt.
After everything we’ve done for you, this is how you repay us by walking away from us.
And finally, panic.
Sarah, please. The landlord is demanding the rent. We can’t afford this on our own. Please just give us time to figure this out.
I didn’t respond to any of them.
On day three after the email, my brother finally called.
Marcus had been copied on the email, but apparently needed two days to process it.
This time, I answered.
“Sarah, what is going on? Mom is freaking out.”
“Hi, Marcus. How was the concert?”
“What? The concert was fine. Listen, Mom says you’re claiming you’ve been paying their rent for eight years. That’s insane. I set up that investment account for them.”
“No, you didn’t. You told them you did, but the actual payments came from my checking account. I have eight years of bank statements to prove it.”
There was a long silence.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because they needed help, and I’m their daughter. The better question is, why did you let them believe it was you?”
“Because, I mean, it made them happy. They were proud of me.”
