“You’ll regret this,” she snapped. “You think you’re so special just because your grandparents gave you a house. One day you’ll be alone in it.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But alone is better than surrounded by people who treat me like a maid.”
She stalked down the walkway, heels clicking. Brandon followed, carrying a box labeled “Brandon: Consoles.” Sierra trailed behind, still crying, filming herself.
The deputy watched them go.
“You okay?” she asked me quietly.
I took a breath.
For the first time in a long time, it went all the way down.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think I will be.”
Schadenfreude isn’t cute.
But it’s honest.
Tracy and my dad didn’t move to Tampa.
They moved to her sister’s cramped two-bedroom apartment in the next town over.
Her sister lasted about a week before she posted a vague Facebook status about “some people” who move in and expect you to do all the cleaning while they sit on the couch complaining.
I cackled.
Brandon sold part of his gaming setup to cover the deposit on a room in a sketchy shared house near a strip mall. His new roommates don’t appreciate screaming at two in the morning over Fortnite. He got a job at GameStop.
Honestly? That might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
Sierra tried to stay with her sorority sisters near campus. That lasted a week. Turns out, they liked her fine when she was the “rich girl” who always had Uber money and a place to crash. As soon as she became “disgraced evictee living at her aunt’s,” the invites dried up.
Now she commutes two hours to campus from her aunt’s place because Tracy’s sister lives far enough away that it’s cheaper for her to drive than rent near school.
Her most recent TikTok was a semi-self-aware video about being “humbled.” The comments were brutal.
And my dad?
He stayed with Tracy.
For now.
He calls me sometimes. Not as often as you’d think. Guilt is a hell of a thing.
When he does, he sounds… older.
Tired.
He asks how school is going. How work is. If the house feels too big.
We avoid talking about Tracy. When he slips, when he mentions a fight they’ve had or some new drama, I hear regret in his voice.
I don’t know if he’ll ever leave her. That’s his decision. His mess.
I can’t fix it for him.
I’m done trying.
The house is quiet now.
Shockingly quiet.