Chapter 8 - The Eviction, the Bankruptcy, and the Total Ruin
By mid-December, the dominoes my family had built out of hubris and cruelty were falling in rapid succession.
On Saturday morning at 9:00 a.m., sheriff’s deputies arrived at Natalie’s $5,000-a-month downtown luxury apartment. Because she had failed to move her belongings out, the deputies oversaw a professional crew that removed every stick of her furniture, designer clothes, shoes, and makeup, piling them onto the wet sidewalk outside the building.
Natalie stood on the curb in the freezing rain, screaming at the movers while passersby recognized her from the viral news video and took photos with their phones.
With no money, no job, no credit, and no apartment, Natalie had no choice but to drag her trash bags of designer clothes back to my parents’ house.
But there was no sanctuary waiting for her there either.
Without Richard’s income and with his legal bills mounting by tens of thousands of dollars, the bank initiated formal foreclosure proceedings on my parents’ four-bedroom estate.
My mother, unable to pay the secondary mortgage or the overdue property taxes, received a formal notice of public auction scheduled for late January.
On a freezing Tuesday afternoon, three weeks before Christmas, my doorbell rang.
I looked at my security camera monitor. Standing on my front porch were my mother, Elaine, and my sister, Natalie.
They didn't look like the polished, pristine women who had sneered at me across the Thanksgiving table. Elaine was wearing an old, faded coat, her hair graying at the roots, her posture broken. Natalie was wearing sweatpants, holding a plastic grocery bag filled with her remaining personal items, her face pale and sunken.
I opened the front door, leaving the heavy glass storm door locked between us.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice flat and emotionless.
Elaine pressed her hands against the glass, tears streaming down her wrinkled cheeks. “Lauren... please. Please open the door. It’s freezing out here.”
“You have five seconds to tell me why you’re on my property before I press the panic button for the sheriff’s department,” I said smoothly.
“Lauren, please!” Natalie sobbed, stepping forward. “We have nowhere to go! The bank took the house! Dad is in prison! Nobody in town will hire me because of that video! We’re starving, Lauren! We don't have money for food or rent!”
I looked at my sister—the woman who had sat at the dining table four weeks ago, watching my throat being crushed and my children being beaten, smiling while she demanded $5,000 for her luxury lifestyle.
“You wanted five thousand dollars a month for a luxury apartment, Natalie,” I said softly. “You told me that family means helping each other. Why don't you ask Uncle Warren? Or Aunt Linda? Or Cousin Michael?”
“They won't talk to us!” Elaine wailed. “Their businesses are ruined because of you! Everyone hates us! The whole town treats us like lepers!”
“You treated my children like punching bags,” I reminded her, my eyes flashing with a cold, unforgiving light. “You stood by while your husband kicked an eight-year-old boy in the ribs. You slashed my ten-year-old daughter’s face with your ring. And you sat there laughing.”
“It was an accident! Your father was stressed!” Elaine pleaded. “We’re your parents, Lauren! You can’t leave your own mother and sister out on the street for Christmas! What kind of Christian are you?!”
“The kind who protects her children from monsters,” I said.
I looked down at Natalie. “There’s a women’s shelter downtown on 4th Street. They take walk-ins at 6:00 p.m. I suggest you start walking.”
“You monster!” Natalie shrieked, banging her fists against the glass door. “You’re supposed to help us! We’re blood!”
“Blood didn't stop you from laughing when my son was crying on the floor,” I said softly.
I hit the red button on my security wall panel. The alarm chime beeped loudly, and the automated security voice announced: “Sheriff's department dispatched. Trespass warning initiated.”
Elaine and Natalie gasped in terror, backing away from the door as the loud security siren began to wail across the quiet neighborhood.
They grabbed their trash bags and ran down my driveway into the freezing rain, stumbling over the icy pavement, disappearing into the dark, cold street.
I closed the heavy wooden door, turned the deadbolt, and stepped back into my warm, quiet house.
May you like
In the living room, a bright, beautiful Christmas tree was lit up with golden lights. Tyler was sitting on the rug, his chest healed, playing with a Lego set while Megan sat at the dining table drinking hot chocolate and drawing a picture.
The air smelled of pine needles, cinnamon, and absolute peace.
