PART 9
Lauren: “You’re really hurting everyone.”
I typed:
Rachel: “Did you know about the loan?”
The typing bubble appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Stopped.
Then:
Lauren: “What loan?”
I studied her response.
Was she pretending?
Or did she really not know?
I replied:
Rachel: “The $85,000 loan against Mom and Dad’s house.”
This time, the reply took longer.
Almost five minutes.
Then:
Lauren: “Rachel… you need to talk to Dad.”
That was not an answer.
And I knew it.
Before I could respond, another message came.
From my father.
Dad: “Come home. We need to explain.”
Home.
That word felt strange.
Because I wasn’t sure I had one anymore.
Still, I agreed to meet.
Not because I trusted them.
Because I needed the truth.
That evening, I drove to my parents’ house.
The same house I had helped save.
The same driveway where I had parked countless times carrying groceries, birthday gifts, and envelopes of money.
But this time, I felt like a stranger.
My father opened the door. He looked older.
Smaller.
For a second, I saw the man who taught me how to ride a bike.
The man who stayed up late helping me with math homework.
The man who used to tell me:
“Family takes care of family.”
And then I remembered.
Family was supposed to take care of me too.
“Rachel,” he said quietly.
I walked inside.
Mom was sitting on the couch.
Lauren was there.
And surprisingly…
Eric was there too.
Everyone.
Like it was some kind of intervention.
My father gestured toward the chair.
“Sit down.”
I remained standing.
“No. I think I’ve spent enough time sitting quietly while everyone else decides what happens.”
Nobody spoke.
My father looked down.
Then he said:
“There’s something you don’t know.”
I crossed my arms.
“I’m listening.”
He took a deep breath.
“The business didn’t just fail.”
My eyebrows tightened.
“What does that mean?”
He looked at Mom.
Then back at me.
“I made mistakes.”
“What kind of mistakes?”
His eyes filled with shame.
“The company had debts.”
“How much?”
He swallowed.
“More than I told you.”
The room went silent.
“How much, Dad?”
He whispered:
“Almost $300,000.”
I felt my chest tighten.
Three hundred thousand dollars.
“But you told me it was temporary.”
“It was supposed to be.”
“And the loan?”
He looked away.
“We needed money to keep the house.”
I stared at him.
“Your solution was to put my name on a loan?”
“I was going to pay it back.”
“With what?”
He didn’t answer.
Because there was no answer.
