No explanation. Just a cold, brazen demand for the exact amount they needed to pay off the overdue mortgage. They hadn’t even asked.
They simply assumed I would pay. I refused the request without hesitation. Not five minutes later, my phone rang.
“Mom?” I didn’t answer. A text message arrived: “Mom: Jacob, I know you saw the request.”
“Why did you refuse?” I didn’t reply immediately. Finally, I typed: “Because it’s not my responsibility.”
“Try Eric.” Another call. Refused…
Another message: “Mom: We’ll lose the house if you don’t help us.” Oh, so now it’s an emergency? After all these years of being their walking wallet, they were finally feeling the consequences of their decision.
I replied: “I should have thought about that before deciding it wasn’t important to you.” A few seconds later, I got a text from Dad:
Father: Do you really want to let your parents become homeless? I laughed out loud. The manipulation was so obvious it was almost comical. They weren’t homeless, after all.
No one had kicked them out. They just didn’t want to touch their savings because they were used to me paying for everything. I ignored them for the rest of the day. But that evening, Eric texted me:
Eric: Man, send them the money now. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill. I gritted my teeth. This idiot was about to give me a lecture.
I replied: “You mean the inherited money? Why aren’t you paying?” The answer came promptly:
Eric: You know I don’t have that much money right now. “Oh, so that’s what it’s about. It’s all about who has the money?” Once I spent my savings on it, everything was fine.
Eric But when it was his turn, he was suddenly broke. I texted him, “Well, buddy, I guess you’ll just have to deal with it…”
“After all, they elected you.” No reply. I went to bed with an unexpected sense of relief.
I had finally broken free from those shackles. But the next day, things only got worse. I was at work in Chicago when the receptionist at my apartment building called.
“Hey, Jacob, your parents are here.” I almost dropped the phone. “What?” the girl on the other end of the line asked hesitantly.
“They say it’s urgent. And you’re not answering the phone? Oh my God! Did they really drive all the way to Chicago just because I stopped paying?”
I took a deep breath, held my nose, and said, “Don’t let them in. I’m not expecting them.” There was an awkward silence.
“Um, they’re being… a little pushy.” I gritted my teeth.
“I don’t care. Tell them to leave.” I hung up and immediately received a text message:
Mother: We’re downstairs. Open the door. No questions.
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