Eighteen Years Of IOUs, One Day To Pay Them All Chapter 02

Eighteen Years Of IOUs, One Day To Pay Them All Chapter 02

Early the next morning, my phone woke me up.

Mom was calling.

The second I answered, her voice came through bright and energetic.

“Rowan, we’re in Boston. Come pick us up at South Station. We’re by the main exit.”

I blinked.

Boston was where I went to college, but my parents had never said anything about coming here.

Before I could even ask why they were in town, Mom hung up.

I rushed through getting ready and headed out.

By the time I reached South Station, the exit was packed with travelers coming and going.

Mom stood beside a pile of luggage while Dad crouched off to one side smoking.

I hurried over and took some of their bags. “Why did you come all of a sudden?”

Mom handed me everything else she was carrying as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Blame your sister and brother. They called yesterday crying about how badly they missed home. Your dad and I figured we’d rent a place here and stay close instead of constantly going back and forth.”

I wanted to say something, but in the end, I just picked up the luggage and followed them.

We took a rideshare to a fairly upscale apartment complex.

The apartment had three bedrooms and a bright, spotless living room.

Mom opened the door with a hint of pride in her voice.

“Tessa wanted somewhere close to the mall. It took me days to find this place.”

She dragged one of the suitcases into the bedroom beside the primary suite and started unpacking clothes.

A half-built LEGO set was already spread across the carpet. It was from the line my brother was obsessed with.

The door to the next bedroom stood open, revealing a glass display case with two BJD dolls inside.

They wore little dresses, their hair styled in intricate braids, and I recognized them as dolls from the shop Tessa always bought from.

I stood in the middle of the living room with the only backpack I owned hanging from one hand.

Mom moved constantly between the two bedrooms, carrying a lamp into one and a throw pillow into the other.

Only after looking around carefully did I notice one more small door.

The room behind it was tiny, more like a home office than a bedroom.

Holding on to one last shred of hope, I opened it.

Inside were two gaming desk-and-chair setups, one pink and one blue, with phone mounts clipped to the backs of the chairs.

My throat tightened.

I gripped the strap of my backpack and asked, my voice trembling, “Mom, where am I supposed to stay?”

Mom was crouched on the floor sorting my brother’s LEGO pieces. She didn’t even look up.

“Tessa and your brother each put eight hundred dollars of their Christmas money toward this place, so they get rooms. You didn’t contribute anything, so of course we didn’t set one aside for you. You have a dorm, don’t you? Once you’re done bringing everything in, get back to campus so you don’t miss class.”

The words hit me like a blow.

It had been years since I’d heard anyone mention Christmas money.

Growing up, Christmas was the only time I ever had money of my own.

At Christmas, relatives would give me cash as a gift.

I clutched the envelope holding my Christmas money, convinced it was the one thing I got to spend however I wanted.

But every year, once the Christmas money had been handed out, Mom and Dad would start sighing around me.

“Groceries have been killing us lately. Money just doesn’t stretch like it used to.”

Tessa would run out to pick up a few things from the store, and my brother would bring Dad a glass of water.

I was always the one left standing there, clutching the envelope holding my Christmas money.

After agonizing over it for a long time, I would finally hand it to them.

“Mom, Dad, I don’t spend much anyway. You can use my Christmas money. You’ll still need to buy gifts for the relatives.”

Every single time, I got the same response.

“Rowan, you’re so thoughtful.”

Back then, I thought being called thoughtful was the best reward I could earn.

Now, every dollar of Christmas money I had handed them myself had somehow become another reason this family shut me out.

I didn’t say anything else.

I simply turned and walked toward the door.

Once I was outside, a message from my faculty advisor appeared on my phone.

My advisor: [Rowan, your scholarship check is ready. Meet me later and I’ll go to the bank with you.]