CHAPTER 3: THE MORNING AFTER
I didn't sleep.
I sat on my couch with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, watching the clock tick from 2:00 AM to 6:00 AM. The sunrise painted my living room in shades of pink and orange, and I remembered how my mother used to say that dawn was God's way of saying you got another chance.
I wondered if God was giving me a chance to start over.
At 8:00 AM, I called my financial advisor, a sharp woman named Janelle who had never once judged me for asking stupid questions.
"Rachel," she said, "I've been looking at your accounts. You've been bleeding money into that mortgage."
"I canceled the autopay."
"Good. You should have done it a year ago."
There was no pity in her voice. Just facts. I appreciated that.
"Can I afford to just... stop?" I asked. "Will I be okay?"
Janelle laughed. "Rachel, you've been paying almost thirty thousand a year toward that house. That's money you could have used for anything else. Investments, retirement, a vacation, a new car. Your net worth would be significantly higher if you'd stopped a long time ago."
I absorbed that. All the money I'd given them, wasted.
"Were you getting any tax benefit from it?" Janelle asked.
"No. It's not my house. I just... paid."
"Then it's been a gift. And you have every right to stop giving."
I ended the call and looked at my empty kitchen. I hadn't eaten since the spit in my plate.
I made myself toast. I ate it standing up.
At 9:00 AM, my mother called.
I let it go to voicemail.
At 9:15, she called again.
I picked up.
"Rachel, we need to talk." Her voice was brittle, too bright. She was trying to sound calm, but I could hear the panic underneath.
"Then talk."
"Your father and I have been talking. We think we've been unfair to you."
"Oh?"
"Yes. We want to work this out. Can you come over?"
"No."
"Rachel—"
"I said no, Mom. I'm done coming over."
She was silent for a moment. Then: "What about the mortgage?"
"Check your bank account."
"It's not there. The payment didn't go through. What did you do?"
"I canceled it."
I heard her intake of breath. Sharp. Shocked. She hadn't believed I would actually do it.
"You can't just—we need that money. Your father—"
"Dad can get a job. Or Derek and Eric can start paying. Since they both seem to have so much to say about how I should live my life."
"Rachel, don't be like this. We're family."
"No," I said. "We were family. Now we're not."
I hung up before she could respond.
May you like
For three years, I'd been their safety net. Their ATM. Their scapegoat.
And now I was done.
