“No, I shouldn’t have moved it out like that,” he confessed, lowering his eyes. “Your mother was furious at the time.”
“You were the one who carried it out to the hall,” I pointed out.
He met my gaze directly. “Yes, I was,” he acknowledged.
That simple acknowledgment was enough for me, as I wasn’t looking for elaborate excuses, just a clear recognition of personal responsibility.
Two weeks later, Samuel filed the lawsuit in civil court. By then, my mother realized I was not going to return begging for forgiveness, while my sister was facing an immediate financial crisis regarding her monthly mortgage.
My sister called me in tears. “The mortgage company is going to apply late penalties to my account!” she panicked.
“Then you should pay the bill on time,” I replied bluntly.
“With what money?” she demanded.
“Use the salary you earn from your job,” I suggested.
“My paycheck isn’t large enough to cover the whole payment!” she wailed.
“I didn’t have excess money either while I was subsidizing your lifestyle,” I countered.
“You gave me your word that you would always support me!” she shouted.
“Helping you out temporary does not mean funding your entire adult life forever,” I stated.
“I am going to lose my condo!” she sobbed.
“Contact your lender and request a modified payment plan,” I advised before ending the call.
Four days later, she showed up at my motel room. When she stepped inside and saw the tiny room where Gemma and I were staying, she stood completely silent.
