Chapter 5 - The Shadow of the Past
Spring transitioned into a warm, golden California summer. My phone had remained relatively quiet, save for a few blocked numbers and an occasional vicious text from Chelsea complaining that her friends were judging her because she didn't have her own luxury car anymore. I ignored them all, keeping my life locked in a peaceful, secure routine.
Then, a Friday evening in July shattered the quiet.
My phone rang, displaying an unknown Portland number. Expecting a telemarketer, I answered casually.
"Iris?"
It was my mother. Her voice sounded thin, brittle, and cracked with anxiety.
"Mother," I said, my voice instantly dropping into neutral territory. "How did you get this number?"
"That doesn't matter," she sobbed softly, sniffing into the phone. "Iris, you need to come home. Or... or at least wire some money. It's Chelsea."
I crossed my arms, leaning against my kitchen counter. "What happened to Chelsea?"
"She got into trouble, Iris. Real trouble," my mother cried. "She totaled the replacement car your father bought her, and she ran up massive credit card debts trying to keep up with her friends. The bank is threatening legal action, and your father’s blood pressure has spiked dangerously. We need your help. As a family, we have to stick together."
There it was. The magic phrase: as a family.
When I needed family to recognize my accomplishments, I got a $2 plastic piggy bank. When Chelsea burned through tens of thousands of dollars in reckless selfishness, I was suddenly expected to be the financial savior.
"No," I said quietly.
A stunned silence hung on the line. "What did you say?"
May you like
"I said no, Mother. I am not coming home, and I am not sending a single cent. Chelsea made her choices, and she is old enough to face the consequences. Just like you always told me when I was struggling through college alone: you'll be fine. You're independent."
Before she could scream or hurl another insult, I hung up and blocked the number permanently.
