The Trust

Chapter 24: Tired AF

Mom's on the phone when I make it home. She waves me in and shakes her head, handing me a towel. "Look at the state of you," she whispers, covering the phone with her hand. "You'll catch your death."

It's a familiar refrain yet I've never come across anyone who's gotten a cold from being wet, otherwise we'd all be sick every time we got out of the shower. But I'm too tired to argue with her.

Glancing at myself in the mirror I must admit that I do look like a drowned rat. I sponge the water from my hair with the towel while she wraps up her phone call.

"Well listen Margaret Anne, I must go. I'm glad to hear the construction's started. Oh, no. It's fine. Of course, no thanks are needed. Yes, just send the invoice to me when the work is done. Yep, OK. Thanks, dear. Bye, bye."

"What was that all about?"

"Timmy needs a ramp for his wheelchair, so I'm paying for Margaret Anne and Joseph to have one installed. They might as well get it done now before the snow flies."

Another one headed straight off the cliff going a hundred miles an hour. "Oh, Mom. You know the money's never coming in, right?"

"Sure it is! I've been talking to Rob this evening, in fact. Everything's right as rain." She folded her arms. "I'm not an idiot, you know."

"Of course not, Mom. I never said—"

"Rob has assured me that we're closer than ever. All's he needs is a little bit of money and he'll have his operation and then once he's in the clear health-wise, we'll all get what's coming to us."

"I hope he gets what's coming to him," I mutter.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," I say, throwing the towel on the counter. It strikes me that I am literally throwing in the towel. I can't stop any of this so why bother trying? Everyone has lost their damned minds.

"I suppose Rob thinks we have 30 thousand dollars sitting around in the bank? And that Julie and I will be providing your share. Because he knows you have no money, right?"

She says nothing.

"Right?" I insist.

"I beg your pardon," Mom says, jutting her chin out. "Who do you think you're talking to, Darcy Marie? For your information, I've already sent my money. And your sister wired hers from Greece. I'm not some poverty-stricken senior! This is a smart investment and I'm doing it."

I flop into a chair before my knees go out. "Tell me you're kidding."

"No. We want to make sure this thing gets wrapped up as soon as possible. The faster he can get his operation, the sooner we'll be in the money."

"You don't have ten thousand dollars, Mom," I point out, dreading the answer.

"I didn't. But that lovely Simon at the bank opened a credit line for me. Wasn't that nice? When the money comes in, I'll be able to pay it off, and my credit card. I'm a rich lady, remember."

"Not yet, you're not. You're a pensioner! How on earth did you get a credit line?"

"Oh, Simon talked to Rob on the phone and is fully confident the money will be here soon. Treated me just like a VIP, he did. Even he knows it's real. Why are you being so negative?"

Just then my phone buzzes and I glance at the photo. My sister is sipping wine with her husband on a cruise ship somewhere near Athens. The cruise was supposed to be for their 20th anniversary in five years, but because the 'money's coming in,' they decided to put it on a credit card and go now.  I see the familiar three dots indicating an incoming text and can't believe what I'm reading.