Diana

I didn’t usually splurge on eating out, but... sushi had just sounded so good today.

I sat down at my desk in my office at Pinnacle Real Estate’s Chicago headquarters, and the sigh that gusted against the papers in front of me wasn’t entirely from satisfaction. The place had just opened down the street and they were having opening week sales on their entire menu. If it hadn’t been cheaper than usual, I would never have gone, but I felt like I deserved a treat. Cheaper didn’t quite mean cheap, though.

And it had been good sushi. Really good sushi. When my mom was released from the nursing home where she had to stay to recover from hip replacement surgery, I would have to take her there for a quality mother-daughter lunch.

A knock sounded at the door, and I called out, “Enter.” Back to work, I reminded myself, preparing to greet whoever was on the other side of that door.

“Hello. Ms. Diana Hayes?” A tall, smiling man stepped into the room.

I nodded. “Can I help you?” I asked pleasantly, concealing my slight confusion. I didn’t recognize this man as a coworker.

“I hope so. I represent Paramount Banks Incorporated. We’ve sent two notices to your home address and made two calls to the number on file about four outstanding payments on your house. The payments have not been collected and we received no contact from anyone living in the house, so I’m here as a courtesy to ensure you receive this.” The man held out an envelope, still smiling despite the disappearance of my own smile.

“Thank you?” The words came out more as a question. Behind on payments? Why hadn’t my mother told me? I edged a nail under the triangular fold of the envelope and started working it open.

“I’m sorry to be the one to inform you of this, but they’re foreclosure papers on your home. I’m afraid Paramount Banks Incorporated will have to take possession of the property if payments are not made.” He finally dropped the smile, probably realizing at last that it wasn’t appropriate to smirk at a woman to whom he was giving the news that she might lose her home. “We haven’t heard from you regarding the payments, so maybe there’s been some kind of mistake. Otherwise, we might be able to work something out.”

“It has to be a mistake,” I found myself saying, my lips stiff against the rising urge to quiver. “Can I speak to my mother today after work, then call the bank?”

“Yes, please do.” At least he wasn’t going to reach into my purse and start rifling around for change on the spot. “If we don’t hear from you within two days, we will have to take action.”

“I understand. Thank you.” I’d never felt less thankful in my life, but being rude to people to whom you owed money never, ever helped matters.

“Thank you, Ms. Hayes. Have a good day.” He left finally, taking his inappropriately-timed smiles with him.

The weight of the news along with my sushi lunch dragged me down to slouch in my comfortable office chair. Why didn’t my mother tell me? Actually, how could I not have known this already?

We’ve made two calls to the number on file. That might be the home phone, which I never answered... And you haven’t exactly been great at remembering to look through the mail, I reminded myself, a sick feeling in my gut. A couple letters about, I don’t know, forgotten mortgage payments would have been easy to overlook. Why hadn’t the mortgage been getting paid at all?

Oh. Oh. That question had a simple, easy answer that wrenched at my heart. Of course, Mom must have spent the money for the mortgage on medical expenses. Even with insurance, the cost of the hip replacement surgery hadn’t been small, and there was the cost of the nursing home on top of that. She hadn’t decided not to tell me, as I had thought at first. She had probably just forgotten completely, and with no calls or letters to remind her… should I be surprised? I hadn’t thought of it either.

It hadn’t before, but soon it became clear that the mortgage, the outstanding payments, and the foreclosure notice were all that would be on my mind for the rest of the day. I liked to consider myself a careful, focused and hard worker. Today I wasn’t. I sent documents to the wrong department to be signed, scheduled two meetings for the same time slot on Chloe’s calendar, spilled a cup of coffee on the keyboard and had to have it replaced by tech support…

Everything that could go wrong went wrong, and around 3:45, near the end of the workday, Chloe came into the office, a slight frown on her face. “Is everything okay? You’ve been acting a little off today. I don’t like to pry, but if something’s troubling you, maybe I can help. Even if helping is just listening or by allowing you to leave an hour early,” she added.

“No, no,” I protested immediately. Now more than ever, I needed money - not to leave early and shirk my job. “I don’t need to leave. I just… it’s just...” Collecting my thoughts took a moment, and I was grateful that Chloe stood silently and waited for me to start speaking again. “My mother had hip replacement surgery not long ago, and the bills have been… expensive. That and the mortgage…”

What was I doing? The workplace didn’t operate like this. Managers, bosses and anyone else above you only wanted to hear that you needed a minute, but you’d be alright soon - and be assured that minute wouldn’t affect one’s overall performance. Chloe probably didn’t need or want this much information.

“I’ll just need to pick up a little extra work, that’s all,” I finished, trying to retrieve something from my spiral into verbal despair. “It won’t affect my performance here,” I added hastily.

“I’m sure it won’t. And if I hear of anything or any opportunities come up within the company, I’ll let you know.”

Maybe I jumped to conclusions… Chloe was not like everyone else, because that was nice of her to say. If she could throw a little extra work my way, that would help me a lot. “Thanks.” Thanks is unprofessional, why didn’t I say thank you - “I appreciate it.” I added.

“You’re welcome. Now, how’s my Friday schedule looking?”

After I worked out a few kinks on Chloe’s calendar, I managed to wait just long enough for her to leave and close the office door before I dissolved into tears. Angrily, I swiped at them, sniffing loudly, but when I only succeeded in dampening my entire face, the tears just came faster and faster.

They were trying to take our home. My childhood home. Every dent in the wall had a story, and I knew all of them by heart. The stains on the carpet attested to our coffee-drinking habits. The furniture was old and faded, but soft and homey. Quilts my mother had stitched draped over some of them. The back door squeaked; the front door didn’t. The garage had an automatic opener, but it sometimes got stuck if you didn’t grab the handle and help it close all the way. The window in the bathroom was drafty, but no matter how many times my mother talked about fixing it, she never did.

Every little quirk made the house a home, and I couldn’t lose it. I knew that one day, I would move out anyway, but... When I did, I wanted to know it was always there for me to go home to, no matter where I ended up or what I did. My mom always talked about how she hated apartments with their thin walls and rowdy neighbors. She had worked so hard for this house, and she was still paying off the mortgage.

Or she had been, until the hip that had pained her for a long time had suddenly become unbearable. She couldn’t lose something she loved so much. I wouldn’t let it happen.

As far as pep talks went, the one I tried to give myself was pretty terrible. Imagining my mother’s crestfallen, heartbroken face when I would break the news about the house sent me into a fresh bout of sniffles. Thinking about the sushi I had for lunch and the plans I was making to take Mom to the place turned those into full-blown sobs.

I knew I shouldn’t have eaten the stupid sushi.

For all my brave words about finding more work, I was out of my office and heading for the elevators as soon as I finished my last tasks and shut down my computer. I needed to get to the nursing home so I could talk this over with my mother. She would know what to do... She always did. And even if she didn’t, she would tell me that things always work out in the end, and I would feel better.

An elevator dinged as I walked into the hallway, just as I felt another wave of salty droplets tug at my already swollen eyelids. No no no, not right now…

I managed to jog past the elevators, nearly tripping in my heels, and I plopped myself down on one of the benches so I had an excuse to look out the window instead of facing whoever stepped out.

Footsteps brushed the carpet of the hall softly, then disappeared - but it was too late. My eyes had already found some hidden reservoir of tears to add to the ones that had already fallen.

I kept an ear out for anyone coming to the elevators until I could finally control the waterworks behind my eyes. The five minutes after that, I spent just gazing miserably out the window. If those buildings weren’t in the way and the distance wasn’t too great, I’d be able to see our house from here.

Then there was a ding, and I jumped, sending a furtive glance over my shoulder. All I saw was movement, then the door sliding closed. At first, I was a bit unnerved by my reaction. But I had to admit I felt… well, almost calm. Like someone had noticed I was crying but decided not to approach. Someone who cared about me.