Inside the folder were two documents. I placed them on the porch railing. “First is a one-year lease at market rate, with a security deposit due in thirty days. If you sign and pay on time, you can stay. Second is notice that I’ll put the house on the market if you move. I need an answer in two weeks.” Home
Mia stared down at the lease. “We can’t afford that,” she murmured. “Tuition went up. I was going to ask if you could help again.”
There it was—the same assumption, untouched by years.
“I’m not your safety net anymore,” I said. “You’re twenty-three. You can get a job, cut back on classes, apply for aid. My role isn’t to drain myself for this house again.”
Mom folded her arms. “You can’t still be mad about one bad night. Families say things they don’t mean.”
“Families say things,” I replied evenly. “They don’t evict the person paying the bills and laugh while she carries her life out in a trash bag.”
Silence settled over the porch.
“So that’s it?” Mia asked at last. “You just drive away in your fancy car and leave us hanging?”
“I’m leaving you with choices,” I said. “That’s more than I ever got.”