Chapter 4
During my junior year, Mom came to visit me again.
This time, she didn't bring fruit. Instead, she brought a bag of hot dogs as a snack.
Mom said, "Lindsay, you used to love hot dogs when you were little."
She sat on a bench outside my dorm, giving hot dogs to me. "How have you been lately? Do you have enough money?" she asked.
I replied, "Yeah."
Mom: "Are you seeing anyone?"
I replied, "No."
Mom: "How are your classes going?"
I replied, "Pretty good."
Mom added, "Lindsay."
"Yeah," I answered.
She said, "I love you."
Chewing on the hot dog, I didn't reply. She's been saying that for six years now.
Suddenly, I realized something. For the past six years, every time she came to visit, she'd say, "I love you."
But she never once said, "Come home." Not once, not even once.
Not "Wait a little longer." Not "Hang in there for a bit." Not "When Sabrina's gone, come home."
Mom never mentioned it, not even once.
It was like everyone had already accepted that I didn't live there anymore.
It was like "I love you" and "letting you come home" were two totally separate things.
Mom could love me. But she chose them.
The hot dog tasted really tasty, but my throat feel all choked up.
"Mom, you should head back," I said.
She stood up and brushed the hot dog skins off her pants. "Alright, I'm heading out. Take care of yourself."
Mom walked a dozen steps, then turned back and gave me a smile.
I waved at her. I watched her until she disappeared at the school gate, then let my hand fall.
I was still holding a hot dog in my hand.
When I got back to my dorm, I sat on my bed and thought for a long time.
My roommate asked, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I replied.
"Did your mom come to see you?" she asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"That's nice," she said.
Yeah. It really was. She came to see me, even bought hot dogs for me. That was what a good mom did, right?
But would a good mom, after kicking her daughter out for six years, come visit and only say "I love you" every time, never once asking her to come back home?
It was not that she couldn't. She didn't want to.
Because if I went back, Richard would have nowhere to stay. Eden and Sabrina wouldn't have a room.
A three-bedroom apartment with four people was already full.
The fifth person would be the odd one out. And that odd one out was me.
I owned the house. But I was still the extra one.
I sat on my bed and crushed the hot dog in my hand. The hot dog fell onto my blanket, but I didn't bother to pick them up.
From that day on, I never asked when I could come back home again.
Because I'd known the answer from day one. Never.
During my last semester of senior year, I did three things.
First, I passed the bar exam. My score wasn't great, but it was enough.
Second, I landed an internship at a law firm near campus. It paid 1.2 thousand dollars a month, and lunch was included.
Third, I met up with Gavin and spent the whole afternoon hanging out in his office.
He had two copies of property deeds and a pile of search records spread out on his desk.
Gavin said, "Lindsay, I've sorted out all your documents. Here's how things stand.
"17 Rose Alley was passed down to you in your dad's will after he died in 2018. The ownership's clean, no mortgage, no drama. Someone's living there now, but there's no lease or anything.
"66 Riverside Road is yours too, also mortgage-free. But it's been sitting empty, and your mom's been using it as a storage space.
"Your mom tried to transfer the property in 2021, but it got rejected, and she never tried again. But I checked the property records."
Gavin flipped to a printed sheet and continued, "The monthly property fees for 17 Rose Alley are 110 dollars, and for the past six years, they've all been deducted from your mom's account.
"Same goes for the utilities. Your mom's bank statements show the money comes from the 100 thousand dollars your dad left behind.
"After paying the property fees, utilities, and daily expenses, by the start of 2024, there's less than 10 thousand dollars left."
I stayed silent.
"There's one more thing," Gavin said, hesitated. "Your stepfather, Richard, borrowed some money using your mom's name.
"It's not a huge sum, 20 thousand dollars. But the debt has already entered the enforcement stage.
"If your mom doesn't have any assets they can seize, the creditors might start tracking down where she's actually living."
"So, could this affect my house?" I asked.
"No, the property's in your name, and you've already frozen the right to transfer it. But if debt collectors show up, they might mistake your house for your mom's property," Gavin explained.
I took a deep breath. "Mr. Fox, I want to reclaim my house," I said.
"You absolutely have the right to do that," he replied.
"What's the process?" I asked.
Gavin explained, "Since you're the owner, you can ask the people living there without your permission to move out.
"Try to negotiate first, and if that doesn't work, you can take legal action. But since it's your mom, I'd recommend giving her a fair deadline to move out."
A fair deadline to move out. I asked, "Is two weeks enough?"
Gavin looked at me. "That's enough."
It was dark when I walked out of his office. The streetlights cast long shadows on the sidewalk.
Warm wind at the end of June blew against my face, smelling like leaves.
I stood by the road for a minute, thinking. Then I made a call. "Hello, is this the locksmith?
"I have two properties, three doors that need new locks. Can you come over next Monday morning?"