“I lost my job.”
“What happened?”
“My biggest client went bankrupt. They owed us sixty thousand. The company’s doing layoffs. I’m out.”
I did not say anything.
“Mom, we’re in trouble. Vanessa’s freaking out. We have thirty days to move and I have no income.”
He hesitated.
“Can you—”
“Can I what?”
“Lend us money. Just until I find something. Please.”
I thought about the two thousand dollars he borrowed the previous November. The eight hundred the year before that. The twelve hundred for the Audi down payment. All the times I said yes because he was my son. Because I wanted to help. Because I thought that was what mothers did.
“No,” I said.
“Mom—”
“You have Vanessa. She’ll figure it out.”
“She doesn’t have money. Her parents cut her off years ago.”
Of course they did.
“Robert, you made your choice. You chose her. You let her throw me out of my home. You stood there and said nothing.”
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“You could have defended me. You could have said no. You could have been my son.”
Silence.
Then, quietly, “I’m sorry.”
“I know. But sorry doesn’t pay rent.”
