Chapter 5 - No More Secret Payments
Monday morning, I called Nia before work.
She answered on the second ring.
"Tell me everything."
I explained the mortgage notice, Curtis's loan, and Mom's fear of losing the house.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then she asked, "Does Mom know we're talking?"
"Yes. She asked me to call you."
"Okay. Then we do this together."
Nia took the next day off and drove down from Charlotte.
By the time she arrived, I'd made a list of the bills Mom had shown me and the amounts she said she'd lent Curtis.
I had also asked Mom to contact her mortgage servicer directly.
The representative explained the amount required to bring the account current and discussed available assistance and repayment options.
Nothing was guaranteed.
But there were steps Mom could take before the situation became worse.
Nia arrived carrying a laptop and a grocery bag.
She hugged Mom for a long time.
No lecture.
No accusation.
Just a hug.
Then we sat at the kitchen table.
Mom placed her bank statements in front of us.
It was painful to see the numbers.
The original loan to Curtis hadn't been one payment.
There were several transfers.
Two thousand dollars.
Fifteen hundred.
Another thousand.
Then smaller amounts.
Some were for a business van he never purchased.
Others were supposedly for insurance, permits, and startup expenses.
There were also withdrawals Mom couldn't clearly explain.
"I kept thinking if I helped him get started, he'd be able to contribute," she said.
Nia leaned forward.
"Mom, did Curtis ever show you a business plan?"
"He talked about one."
"Did he show you invoices?"
Mom shook her head.
"Any receipts for the van?"
"No."
I studied the transactions.
What hurt most wasn't the total.
It was seeing how often Mom had given him money immediately after payday.
She had been choosing his promises over her own security for months.
Nia opened a spreadsheet.
"Okay. First, we protect the house. Then we figure out everything else."
Mom looked ashamed.
"I should have told you both."
Nia reached across the table.
"Yes, you should have. But we're here now."
We divided the problem into practical steps.
Mom would request assistance from the mortgage servicer and stop giving Curtis money.
Nia would help organize the paperwork.
I would continue paying my agreed four hundred dollars while I still lived there, but I wouldn't make unexplained extra payments.
Mom would create a separate account for household expenses.
Most importantly, she would ask Curtis to provide a written repayment plan.
He came home just before dinner.
The three of us were still at the table.
He stopped in the doorway.
"What's going on?"
Mom stood.
"We need to talk."
Curtis looked at Nia.
"So now the whole family is involved?"
Nia closed her laptop.
"Mom asked us to help."
Curtis gave a bitter laugh.
"This is ridiculous."
Mom's hands trembled.
She clasped them together.
"I need to know when you're going to repay the money I lent you."
His face hardened.
"After everything I've done for you?"
"What have you done?" I asked.
"Darius," Mom said quietly.
I stopped.
This was her conversation.
Curtis pointed at me.
"He's been poisoning you against me."
Mom looked directly at him.
"No. I looked at my bank statements."
He blinked.
She continued.
"The mortgage is behind. I'm borrowing money from my children. And I don't know when you're going to repay me."
Curtis shifted his weight.
"I told you the business is taking longer than expected."
"Then show me what you've purchased."
He hesitated.
"I don't have everything organized."
"When can you show me?"
"Why are you interrogating me?"
Nia remained seated.
"Because she lent you eight thousand dollars."
Curtis turned toward the front door.
"I'm not doing this."
Mom stepped away from the table.
"Then we have a bigger problem."
He stopped.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Mom's voice was unsteady, but the words were clear.
"I can't keep supporting you while my children pay for the house."
Curtis stared at her.
Then he laughed.
"You really think they're going to take care of you forever?"
Mom took a breath.
"I don't need them to take care of me forever."
She glanced at Nia.
Then at me.
"I need to stop letting fear make my decisions."
Curtis's smile disappeared.
He took his keys from his pocket.
"So you're choosing them over me."
The words hung in the kitchen.
Eight months earlier, Mom might have apologized.
She might have begged him to stay.
Instead, she looked at the woman in the reflection of the dark kitchen window.
Then she turned toward him.
"I'm choosing not to lose myself."
Curtis walked toward the hallway.
Mom followed him only as far as the doorway.
"We still need to discuss the money and your living arrangements."
He stopped with his back to us.
For a moment, none of us knew whether he'd turn around and fight, apologize, or leave.
Then he said something none of us expected.
May you like
"You want to talk about money? Fine. There's something I haven't told you."
And he reached into his pocket.
