Chapter 4 - A KEY OF MY OWN
“You called a lawyer on your parents?”
Mom said it loudly enough for the neighbor outside to hear.
“I asked a friend to look at paperwork.”
“After everything we’ve done for you?”
Dad stared at the carpet.
“What exactly have I asked you to pay for in the last three years?” I asked.
Mom pointed toward the hallway.
“You have a roof over your head.”
“And you have a furnace under yours.”
Dad flinched.
I hated that I noticed.
I hated more that part of me wanted to comfort him.
Mom folded her arms.
“If you want to act like a stranger, we can treat you like one.”
“Then stop packing my belongings.”
She stepped aside.
I carried my documents to the car.
That night, Sophie’s spare room became my temporary bedroom.
The next morning, I found a small apartment above a bakery.
The paint was scuffed.
The bathroom window stuck.
The kitchen could barely fit two people.
The landlord handed me the lease.
“Just you?”
“Just me.”
Saying it felt strange.
Almost selfish.
Then I signed.
During lunch breaks, I moved books, clothes, and photographs.
I took pictures of anything I left behind.
I gathered purchase receipts for the appliances.
Sophie sent my parents a letter explaining the repayment claim.
It did not demand the house.
It asked that the documented obligation be addressed before any refinancing went forward.
She also told me to stop making new voluntary payments.
“Give them clear notice,” she said.
“Don’t leave bills hanging in your name.”
I scheduled the transfer of household services and canceled the automatic grocery delivery after the current order.
Mom barely noticed.
She was busy sending Derek pictures of my room.
Thursday evening, I came home for the last boxes.
My grandmother’s jewelry box was gone.
So was the blue binder containing the original repayment agreement.
I found Mom in the kitchen.
“Where are they?”
“What?”
“My jewelry.
My binder.”
She wiped a clean counter.
“Probably packed.”
“Which box?”
“I don’t know.
You’ve been moving things all week.”
I checked every box.
Nothing.
When I returned to the kitchen, her phone was lying faceup.
A message from Derek flashed across the screen.
May you like
Good.
Keep the original away from her until Friday.
