Chapter 7 - Brianna’s Debt
Brianna arrived at my house alone that evening.
She didn’t try the door.
She stood beneath the camera and pressed the intercom.
“Can we talk?”
I almost said no.
Then I saw her face.
The anger was gone.
I opened the door but did not invite her inside.
We sat on the porch.
“What debt did Mom pay?”
I asked.
Brianna looked toward the hydrangeas.
“Credit cards.”
“How much?”
“Forty-three thousand.”
I stared at her.
“There’s more.”
She nodded.
“A personal loan.”
“How much?”
“Seventy.”
My breath caught.
“One hundred thirteen thousand dollars?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“My divorce destroyed me.”
“No.”
I said quietly.
“Your divorce hurt you.”
“There’s a difference.”
She flinched.
I had spent years softening every truth for my sisters.
I wasn’t doing it anymore.
“What did Mom expect in return?”
“Nothing.”
“Brianna.”
“She said we should start over together.”
“Here.”
I said.
Brianna looked away.
“Yes.”
“Did she ever tell you I agreed?”
“She said you would.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“I know that now.”
For the first time, one of my sisters sounded uncertain.
Brianna told me Mother had presented the plan three months earlier.
Sell her house.
Clear debts.
Invest in Chloe’s company.
Help Madison finish school.
Then everyone would move into my five-bedroom house.
They would contribute later.
Eventually.
When life improved.
It was the same promise I had heard my entire life.
Later.
Eventually.
Soon.
Audrey would cover it until then.
“Why didn’t anyone ask me?”
I said.
Brianna’s answer was almost worse than Mother’s.
“Because Mom said asking would make you overthink it.”
I actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was so perfect.
My ability to think had become an obstacle.
“What rooms did she assign?”
“Mom wanted the downstairs suite.”
“Of course.”
“Chloe got the blue room.”
“Madison took my office.”
Brianna nodded.
“And you?”
“The front bedroom.”
I stared at the porch boards.
“What about my office?”
“She said you could work from the dining room.”
There it was.
My home.
My mortgage.
My years of overtime.
And somehow I had been reduced to a corner of my own dining room.
Brianna wiped her eyes.
“I thought you knew.”
“Did you?”
She didn’t answer.
That silence told me enough.
Before she left, she handed me an envelope.
“I found this in Mom’s folder.”
Inside was a printed spreadsheet.
At the top were the words:
AUDREY HOUSEHOLD CONTRIBUTION PLAN.
My name appeared beside the largest number.
May you like
$6,850 per month.
Under my sisters’ names were zeros for the first twelve months.
