She looked away.
We sat around the kitchen table, and for several uncomfortable minutes, no one spoke.
Finally my father cleared his throat.
“I’m sick.”
I already knew from my mother’s message that his heart condition had become serious, but hearing him say it made everything feel different.
“There’s a procedure,” he continued. “The doctors think it could help, but our insurance won’t cover everything.”
My mother stared down at her hands.
“We’ve used almost all our savings.”

Then came the part I hadn’t expected.
Their house was in danger too.
My father had borrowed against it years earlier after his business began struggling. Medical bills had pushed them further behind, and the bank had started foreclosure proceedings.
I leaned back in my chair.
For years, my parents had judged people by appearances, money, careers, homes.
Now they were about to lose the very house