Family Or Not You Are Going To Jail

“My cousin asked for it. Were you really going to tell her no?”

Tiffany’s voice came through the phone, dripping with a familiar, entitled arrogance.

I gripped my phone, silent.

“It’s only twenty thousand dollars. You make seven grand a month, you can’t swing that?”

“Tiff, I’m saving for a down payment—”

“Down payment, down payment, that’s all you ever talk about!” she snapped, cutting me off. “I can’t look poor at my networking event. Front me the money, and I’ll pay you back.”

I took a slow, deep breath. “I can’t lend it to you.”

A three-second silence stretched across the line.

“Fine. Sierra. You remember what you said today.”

The day after I hung up, my social media feed exploded.

Tiffany had posted a long screed: My cousin makes seven thousand a month, but she won’t even lend me twenty grand to help out. Honestly, embarrassing for her parents.

Forty-seven likes.

The following morning, the bank called. “Ms. Sierra Clarke, we’re calling about a consumer loan under your name that is three months overdue. Please resolve this immediately.”

I had never taken out a loan in my life.

I pulled up my credit report and stared at the line item for a forty-thousand-dollar personal loan.

I didn’t laugh. It was a cold, brittle feeling that shattered in my chest.

Interesting. That was one word for it.

1

Three days earlier.

“Sweetheart, did your cousin call?”

My mother’s voice was tentative, floating in from the kitchen.

I put down my fork. “She did.”

“About that… business party…”

“I didn’t lend her anything.”

Mom’s hand paused over the dishes.

“But your cousin, she…”

“Mom, I don’t have twenty thousand dollars to spare.” I looked at her. “I’m on the cusp of a down payment. I should be ready by the end of the year.”

“I know, but she’s still your cousin…”

“Why does her business networking gala have to be paid for by me?”

Mom opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come out.

The TV in the living room was still on, broadcasting some daytime family drama.

“Your Aunt Carol called me earlier, too,” Mom’s voice dropped. “She said Tiffany’s business is struggling, money’s tight, and she needs your help…”

“If her business is struggling, why is she throwing a thirty-person party at The Metropolitan?”

“Well…”

“I looked up the venue. It’s six hundred dollars a plate.” I stood up. “Thirty people, that’s eighteen thousand. With other expenses, her asking for twenty thousand makes sense. But she really asked for twenty thousand for a party she’ll charge to network?”

Mom’s expression shifted.

“Sweetheart, your cousin isn’t like that…”

“Mom.” I faced her. “I make seven thousand a month. I’ve saved for two and a half years. I have $140,000. I’m six months away from my down payment. If I lend her twenty grand now, and she doesn’t pay it back?”

“She said she would…”

“She’s said a lot of things.”

I remembered five years ago.

Tiffany borrowed two thousand dollars, promising to pay it back the next month.

The next month, she said to wait.

A year later, when I finally asked, she scoffed, “It’s only two thousand dollars, are you seriously asking for it back?”

In the end, Aunt Carol ‘mediated,’ saying the $2,000 should just be considered my wedding gift to Tiffany.

“Mom, I’m not lending it.”

Mom sighed, saying nothing more.

I went back to my room and opened my phone.

Tiffany’s chat window was lit up.

“Sierra, give me a straight answer. Yes or no?”

I typed: “No.”

Send.

“Hmph.”

She replied instantly.

“Sierra Clarke, you remember what you said today.”

“I will,” I replied.

She didn’t respond again.

I thought that was the end of it.

The next night, scrolling through Instagram, I saw the long post.

“Some people, making seven figures a year, won’t lend a little twenty grand to help family. Unbelievable.”

“Haha. The cousin I practically raised, such an ungrateful brat. Honestly, so embarrassing for her mother and father.”

“It’s not like I’m going to run off with it. I, Tiffany Evans, have been in business for years. As if I’d welch on twenty thousand!”

“Some people just can’t stand to see others succeed. They’re so cheap, and they hate being called out for it.”

Below it, forty-seven likes.

Aunt Carol liked it.

Brendan, Tiffany’s husband, liked it.

Seven or eight people I didn’t know liked it, too.

In the comments, Aunt Carol wrote: “Tiff, don’t worry, we don’t pay attention to people like that.”

Brendan added: “Some family really isn’t worth the trouble.”

I stared at the screen, my finger hovering over the comment section.

Finally, I said nothing.

I took a screenshot.

I closed the app, locked my phone, and went to bed.

At seven the next morning, the phone woke me.

An unfamiliar number.

“Hello, is this Ms. Sierra Clarke?”

“Yes.”

“I’m calling from Allied Bank’s Credit Center. We’re reaching out regarding a consumer loan under your name that is three months overdue. The principal is forty thousand dollars. The current overdue balance is twelve thousand. Please resolve this as soon as possible.”

I froze for three seconds.

“What loan?”

“You executed a forty-thousand-dollar personal line of credit three months ago. The funds were disbursed into your linked account. It has been delinquent for three consecutive periods and has already been reported to the credit bureaus.”

“I have never taken out a loan.”

The line was silent for a moment.

“Ms. Clarke, I recommend you check your personal credit report immediately. If you have further questions, you can verify this at one of our branches.”

I hung up.

I opened my laptop and logged into the Central Credit Registry.

The page took thirty seconds to load.

Under the Loan History section, a record stood out:

Consumer Loan, $40,000, Disbursed April 3, 2024, Currently Delinquent.

I stared at the date for a long time.

April 3, 2024.

That was the weekend of the Spring Break holiday.

That day, I was back in my hometown.

That day, I lent my driver’s license to Tiffany so she could pick up a package for me in the neighboring town.

I smiled a grim, tight smile.

So that was it.