The company had secured a beautiful apartment for me in the Jordaan district with a balcony overlooking the water. The first of the following month came and went while I sat on that balcony sipping wine.
The funny thing about parasites is that they don’t notice when the host leaves right away. They only feel it when the money stops and the consequences start knocking loudly on the front door.
I found out about the collapse several months later through a frantic email chain forwarded by a distant cousin. According to the emails, the first ten days of the month had been arrogantly normal in the house.
Shane had reveled in his new status as the man of the house while enjoying the extra space I left behind. My mother likely convinced herself that I was just throwing a tantrum and would eventually come crawling back.
Then, on the fifteenth of the month, a heavy envelope arrived from the mortgage lender. It was an urgent notice stating that the account was past due and delinquent.
My mother immediately assumed there was a bank error or that I was being petty. She tried to call my old cell phone number to deploy her usual arsenal of guilt trips.
She was met with a sterile automated message saying the number was no longer in service. Panic began to set in as she realized she couldn’t reach me at all.
Two days later, Shane tried to log into the internet portal because his gaming connection had been cut off. He found the payment method erased and the account overdrawn.
“Where did she go?” Shane had reportedly screamed while tearing through my empty old bedroom. He was searching for any clue as to where his personal ATM had hidden itself.
They called my old office demanding to speak with me, only to be told I no longer worked at that branch. The receptionist informed them that I had relocated to Europe and my contact info was private.
The realization hit them like a freight train as they sat in a dark house they could not afford. They were facing imminent mortgage default while relying on a man who hadn’t held a job in years.
By the third month, the bank initiated formal foreclosure proceedings against my mother. Without my money to serve as a buffer, the relationship between my mother and Shane shattered.
My mother began demanding that Shane find a job to save them from homelessness. Shane was entirely unequipped for the workforce and blamed my mother for not forcing me to stay.
Desperation breeds a special kind of humiliation, and my mother eventually sent a mass email to the entire family. She begged anyone with contact info for me to tell me they were desperate.
“Andrea, please, the bank is taking the house and Shane can’t find work fast enough,” the email pleaded. “I am so sorry if he hurt your feelings, but you cannot abandon your family like this.”
My cousin added a note saying that Shane was screaming at her constantly and the house was a disaster zone. I read the email while sitting at a sunlit cafe in Amsterdam with a warm latte.
I didn’t feel a single shred of guilt because her apology was conditional and minimized the abuse I endured. I opened a reply window and sent a message back to my cousin for him to relay.
“Please tell Shane that parasites do not pay mortgages or buy groceries,” I wrote. “He told me to leave, and I simply respected his authority as the new man of the house.”
“I wish them the best of luck with the foreclosure, but please do not contact me again,” I concluded. I then blocked every family member who might try to guilt trip me further.
I closed my laptop and looked out at the majestic canals reflecting the afternoon sun. I was thousands of miles away and completely untouchable by the wreckage they had brought upon themselves.
The house in Iowa was sold at a public bank auction exactly two months later. A year after that, my life in the Netherlands was wonderfully unrecognizable from my previous existence.
I had been promoted to a director position and built a circle of friends who actually cared about my well being. I heard through the grapevine that Shane and my mother were now living in a cramped apartment above a laundromat.
Shane was working a grueling minimum wage retail job at a hardware store. His inflated ego had been shattered by the reality of a rigid schedule and an angry manager.
My mother spent her days complaining about her cruel daughter, still unable to see her own role in the mess. I walked along the coast during a weekend trip and felt the warm sun on my face.
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