Page 2 of Ravaged Bride

“I know that but…”

He cuts in. “As guarantor, you are aware that you are responsible for making good any missed payments, are you not?”

“And I’ll sort it as soon as I get home but…”

He cuts me off again. “I’m able to put enforcement action on hold for forty-eight hours if you agree to make an immediate payment to clear at least seventy percent of the defaulted amount over the phone with me now.”

“How much do they owe?”

“Three thousand and seven dollars and eighty-five cents in total. You can settle right now for two thousand.”

“I haven’t got two thousand dollars. Who has that kind of money just ready to give to anyone who asks?”

“If you don’t make immediate payment, I am legally entitled to begin proceedings to repossess your parents’ property…”

The little ball of rage and grief that’s been building in me since the crash finally comes spurting out of my throat, all in one angry tirade. “Listen to me. I’m on my way to my sister’s funeral right now.”

“I fail to see how…”

“You will if you shut up for long enough to let me talk. The reason my parents are in arrears, as we tried to tell you when we rang several times to discuss this, is because my sister’s dead. The same crash that killed her put both of my parents in hospital. I’ve got their bills piling up. Neither of them can work until they’re discharged, and the last thing I need is for assholes like you to ring me and demand money I haven’t got. You got any family?”

“Three months of arrears are on the account, Miss Fletcher. A recent death does not explain three months, does it? As guarantor, you are on the hook for every penny they owe. This is a conversation about money, not your family circumstances.”

“My sister is dead. Wiped out by the same drunk driver who put my parents in hospital. I’ve got to go and bury her on my own because they’re not well enough to come to the funeral. I got one day off work for this because I can’t afford more than one day off because I need to pay assholes like you who hike mortgage payments seemingly for a laugh.” My heart is pounding. That’s the most shouting I’ve done in my entire life. Even the three assholes in the train seem surprised.

Malcolm is still droning down the line as if I haven’t said anything. “We are within our rights to adjust the fees and interest as laid out in the initial contract your parents signed with you as guarantor. You must be aware that if you fail…”

“I’m done with this conversation. You want to talk about money, you write me a letter and I’ll reply when I’m done burying my sister.”

“I must inform you that if you don’t make immediate payment, further steps will be taken that may or may not include court action or even repossession of the family homestead. Miss Fletcher, are you…?”

I hang up the phone. I almost cry but I keep a hold of myself. I won’t let him make me cry.

I take a deep breath and then call my dad, hoping he’s out of surgery and able to talk.

“You missed the train, didn’t you?” he asks as soon as he picks up. “Couldn’t you be on time for once in your life?”

“I just had Colombo Savings and Loan on the phone to me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Listen, I was going to talk to you about all that when you got back.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were three months behind, Dad?”

“We didn’t want to worry you. You’ve got enough on your plate with your work without needing to worry about us.”

“A heads up would have been nice. We could have sorted something out.”

“You’ll never have enough money for a place of your own if you keep bailing us out. I’ll get some clients again soon. You know the accountancy game. Ups and downs like a fiddler’s elbow.”

“He said they might take the house if we don’t make up the arrears.”

“I’ll sort something out when I get out of here. The doc reckons I’ll be on my feet in a couple of days and then I can get back to work.”

“You can’t go back to work yet, Dad. You fractured your spine and had a bleed on the brain. You need to rest.”

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