Chapter 5 - 12:17 A.M.
The storm arrived three nights later.
At 12:17 a.m., my phone began buzzing on the nightstand.
Dad.
Mom.
My sister Rebecca.
Dad again.
I let the first six calls go unanswered.
Then a message appeared:
Water is coming through the bedroom ceiling. Get over here now.
Another followed:
This is your fault.
I called back only after opening the weather radar and confirming emergency crews could travel safely.
Dad answered before the first ring finished.
“The ceiling is collapsing.”
“Move away from the damaged area. Shut off electricity to the affected rooms if you can do so safely. Call the emergency number I gave you.”
“We called Miguel. He said his crew is handling other storm damage.”
“He offered to secure it three days ago.”
“You took the tarp.”
“The tarp was company property. You refused the work authorization and refused emergency service.”
“You knew it would rain.”
“So did you.”
Mom took the phone.
“Audrey, please. We are your parents.”
The sentence sounded different after the kitchen table.
Not like a relationship.
Like a tool they believed should open any locked door.
“Call your insurer’s emergency line,” I said.
“They’ll ask why the work wasn’t finished.”
“Tell them the truth.”
Dad grabbed the phone again.
“We’ll tell them our contractor abandoned the job.”
I became completely still.
“I was not your contractor.”
“You worked on the roof.”
“I donated limited labor. There was no contract, no invoice and no signed authorization.”
“You’re licensed.”
“And you typed my license number onto an insurance form without permission.”
Silence.
He had not expected me to see that page.
Then he said the sentence that finally ended the call.
“You wouldn’t ruin us over paperwork.”
May you like
“No,” I said. “You did that when you decided paperwork was the only part of me worth paying for.”
I hung up.
