Chapter 5
After leaving Michael's place, I sat alone on a bench in the garden of his apartment complex, just sitting there for ages.
Six hundred thousand dollars
Our parents gave him the money.
I remembered how things were when we were kids.
When I went to college, my tuition was two thousand dollars a year. Mom said money was tight, told me to take care of it myself, and get a student loan.
I took out loans for four years and spent five years paying them off after I graduated.
When Michael went to college, his tuition was four thousand dollars a year. Mom just covered it all without a second thought.
When I graduated, I rode a fourteen-hour train alone just to get to a job interview. Mom just said, "Figure it out yourself."
When Michael graduated, Mom and Dad went with him to three different cities to help him job hunt, and in the end, they even rented him an apartment in the provincial capital.
When I went home in my second year of work, Mom asked, "How much do you make a month? Can you send some money home? Your brother wants to buy a car."
I sent the money.
Every month, I sent 600 dollars home for three years.
Michael ended up with a brand new Volkswagen Passat—seventy thousand, just like that.
And me?
All I had was an electric scooter, which I rode for four years straight.
I remembered what Mom said the day I signed that contract, "If Michael really makes it, you'll get some credit too, right?"
I co-signed a two hundred ninety thousand dollars loan for Michael.
He really made it.
Bought a six-hundred-thousand-dollar apartment, paid cash—no mortgage.
Got married.
Had a kid.
But what about me?
I had been blacklisted for four years.
Stuck renting a cramped, partitioned room, barely enough space to breathe.
Thirty-two, single.
On blind dates, I get labeled as "brother-obsessed."
Sitting alone on that bench, watching the sunset, I suddenly found myself laughing.
I laughed, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face.
Guess that was what being a sister was all about.
When I got home, I called Mom.
"Mom, I went to Michael's place," I said.
"Oh," she replied, sounding totally indifferent. "His place is pretty nice, huh?"
"It's great. He bought a house for six hundred thousand dollars, paid in full," Mom said.
"Yeah, he's really made something of himself," Mom said, her voice full of pride.
"Mom, you know about that two hundred ninety thousand dollars loan, right?" I asked.
"Yeah, I know," Mom replied.
"Michael said he can't pay it back," I told her.
"He really doesn't have any money," Mom said. "He blew it all on the house."
"So you guys gave him that six hundred thousand dollars, right?" I asked.
"Yeah," Mom replied, like it was the most natural thing ever. "We're his parents—of course, we have to help out when he gets married and needs a house."
"What about me?" I asked. "When I get married, are you going to help me out like that?"
"You're not even married yet. Why are you even talking about this?" Mom shot back.
"If I get married, would you buy me a house too?" I pressed her.
"How could that be the same?" Mom's voice got louder. "Michael's a man; he has to take care of his family. You're a girl. Once you get married, you belong to someone else's family."
I sat there, holding my phone, lost in silence for a long time.
"Mom, shouldn't we use the money for the house to pay off that two hundred ninety thousand dollars first?" I asked.
"No way," Mom shot back without hesitation. "That money was set aside for Michael's house, for his marriage. We can't touch it."
"But what about my credit report?" I asked.
"What's the big deal with your credit report? It's not like you can't live your life because of it," Mom said, sounding annoyed. "You're always so dramatic. Enough already. I need to go."
"Mom." I tried to say, but she cut me off.
The line went dead.
I sat on my bed, staring at the phone screen for a long time.
A month later, I got a summons from the court.
The bank was suing me.
As the guarantor, the bank wanted me to be held jointly liable for the entire loan.
I stared at the date on the summons, and it hit me just how ironic it was.
The court date was my birthday.
My thirty-third birthday present was a summons from the court.
I tried calling Michael, but his phone was still off.
So I called Mom.
"Mom, the bank's suing me," I said.
"Why would they sue you? It's not even your loan," Mom shot back.
"I'm the guarantor. If Michael can't pay, I have to cover it too," I explained.
"I don't get all that joint liability stuff," Mom said, sounding dismissive. "Go talk to Michael about it."
"He won't answer my calls," I said.
"Then just go to his place and talk to him in person," Mom suggested.
"He won't see me," I replied.
"What am I supposed to do?" Mom raised her voice. "You're the big sister—handle your own mess."
I took a deep breath.
"Mom, if I lose this lawsuit, I could get blacklisted for bad credit," I said.
"What does that even mean?" Mom asked.
"It means I'll be labeled a deadbeat," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I won't be able to fly, take high-speed trains, stay at hotels, get loans, or even apply for a credit card."
"Is it really that serious?" Mom asked.
"Yeah, it is," I replied.
There was a moment of silence on the other end.
Then Mom said, "Just let Michael deal with it."
"He won't answer my calls," I said.
"Then just keep trying," Mom replied.
"Mom, could you please ask him to call me back?" I asked, feeling helpless.
"Michael's busy, and I can't do anything about it," Mom replied, sounding impatient. "You're his big sister; figure it out yourself."
I hung up, feeling utterly drained.
I started rummaging through every drawer and box, trying to find that guarantor contract.
I remembered I had the original copy somewhere.
After an hour of digging, I finally found it tucked away at the very bottom of an old box.
It was all right there in black and white, no room for doubt.
Borrower: Michael Carter.
Guarantor: Hailey Carter.
I stared at that signature for a long time.
That was me, five years ago.
Back then, I thought Michael was my brother, Mom was my mom—we're family. How could they ever have any bad intentions?
Now I knew.
How could they ever have any bad intentions?
Turns out, there was no shortage of that.