Sort of.
Floyd and Pamela made the mortgage payments. Sometimes. When they couldn’t, I covered it.
They paid utilities. Sometimes. When they didn’t, I paid.
I paid for the new furnace when the old one died. The roof repair after a storm. The plumbing when the basement flooded.
I told myself it was temporary. That they were struggling but trying. That family helped family.
But somewhere along the way, the agreement shifted.
I went from helping to providing. From partner to ATM.
And they went from grateful to entitled.
Then, three months ago, the mortgage was paid off.
I made the final payment myself. Floyd had lost his job, and Pamela’s income wasn’t enough to cover it.
Ezoic
The house was free and clear. No more monthly payments. No more debt.
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