Chapter 3
Once that late payment hit my credit report, everything started crashing down around me.
First, it hit my housing situation.
The landlord said he wanted new tenants, so I had to move out and start looking for a new place.
The real estate agent showed me a few apartments, and I really liked a two-bedroom apartment with a living room for one thousand dollars a month.
"Your credit report has a problem," the agent said, looking awkwardly at his phone. "The landlord decided not to rent to you."
"What?" I blurted out, totally stunned.
"You've got a late loan payment on your record, so the landlord's worried you won't be able to keep up with the rent," the agent explained.
I froze.
"I can pay six months' rent up front..." I said, her voice shaky.
"The landlord said no," the agent replied, shaking his head. "Maybe you should check out some other options."
Other places.
I went to see five more apartments, and four landlords said no.
What I ended up with was a subdivided room in a shared apartment. Seven hundred a month. A hundred and thirty square feet. Right next to the bathroom.
When summer hit, the stench was enough to knock you out.
Then came buying a house.
The year after my credit went bad, my company was doing well, and I got a solid year-end bonus. With the savings I'd managed over the past two years, I finally saved up enough for a down payment.
I went to the bank to apply for a mortgage.
The loan officer glanced at my credit report, then looked up at me.
"Ms. Carter, you have a delinquent co-signed loan on your credit report. I'm sorry, but we can't approve your mortgage application," she said.
"But that loan wasn't even mine," I protested. "I was just the co-signer."
"A co-signer's credit is treated the same as the borrower's," she replied, all business. "Because of this 180-day delinquency, you're ineligible for any loans for the next five years."
"Five years?" I whispered, barely able to believe it.
"Yes. That late payment will stay on your record for five years," she said.
I just sat there for ages, completely speechless.
After leaving the bank, I stood outside and lit a cigarette.
I didn't smoke.
But in that moment, I just needed anything to help me calm down, even if it was just a cigarette.
I called Michael.
His phone was still off.
I called Mom.
"Mom, I can't buy a house," I said, my voice shaky.
"Why not?" Mom asked.
"Because of Michael's loan, my credit's shot," I replied.
"I don't get all that credit stuff," Mom said, sounding impatient. "Buying a house isn't a big deal. Just wait a few years, what's the rush?"
"Wait a few years?" I shot back, my voice rising. "I'm already thirty! How much longer am I supposed to wait?"
"What's the rush? It's not like anyone's rushing to marry you," Mom said, her tone dismissive.
I clutched my phone, squatting outside the bank, not saying a word.
"Alright, stop calling. I need to go grocery shopping," Mom said, then hung up.
Mom hung up.
Next came the blind dates.
Three years after my credit went bad, a coworker set me up with a guy.
He seemed pretty solid—worked for a state-owned company, had a stable job, and wasn't bad-looking.
We met up three times, and things were going pretty well.
But on our fourth date, his whole attitude changed.
"Hailey, I checked your credit report," he said, giving me that look like he was judging me for something.
"You checked my credit report?" I blurted out, totally caught off guard.
"My mom told me to," he said, sounding completely justified. "She said there are a lot of scammers these days, so I should check."
"I'm not a scammer," I said, my voice tight.
"Then what's that two hundred ninety thousand dollars overdue on your credit report?" he shot back.
I fell silent.
"I just backed someone up on a loan," I finally said.
"Who was it for?" he asked.
"My brother," I replied.
He nodded, like, figures—just as he thought.
"Yeah, my mom says she can't accept a family situation like yours," he said.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, my tone tense.
"Well..." he paused, trying to find the right words. "You know, one of those 'brother-obsessed' sisters—always sacrificing everything for her brother."
I looked at him and let out a laugh.
"Excuse me? What did you just say?" I asked, my tone cold.
"Don't get mad, that's just what my mom said," he waved his hand, trying to brush it off. "She thinks girls from families like yours are always 'brother-obsessed'—always sacrificing everything for their brothers. She's worried you'll keep supporting him, and she doesn't trust it."
I stood up and grabbed my bag.
"Hailey, where are you going?" he called after me.
"I'm heading home," I said, not even looking back. "Don't ever call me again."