Chapter 9: Severance
The attorney’s letters went out midweek: dispute continuation, formal notice regarding unauthorized use, request for accounting on the HELOC, and a directive that my personal cards, travel accounts, and contact information were not to be used for any third-party purchases. A separate notice informed my parents that future in-person contact would need to be arranged, not assumed.
Madison called it a declaration of war in a text string that Cole appeared to be trying, and failing, to moderate. Dad called it humiliation. Mom called it a misunderstanding that had grown cancerous because I would not sit down “like family.”
I replied once, to all three:
Sit down was offered every night for ten nights. You chose other addresses. The rest is accounting. Direct further communication to the address on the letter.
May you like
I cooked for one. I ate at the table with a single plate. The porch light stayed off. The absence of hope in the evening routine hurt in a dull, specific way—and under the hurt was space I had not had when I was waiting for people who were never in traffic toward my door.
The bank’s provisional credits continued to post as merchants responded. Cole’s partial transfer held. The HELOC file opened. None of it restored the week of dinners I had cooked for empty chairs. All of it reduced the chance of a next week funded the same way.
