Alice fights a battle she never expected as Jason’s estranged parents want the mansion he left behind. Grieving and determined, she accepts their claim provided they can answer the one question that tortured Jason till his death.
Jason and I had a life-changing encounter at 17. He arrived at my door with a backpack and a broken heart, eyes red from sobbing. I’ll never forget that.
He was kicked out without a reason by his parents. My mom immediately knew after seeing him. That day, he joined our family.
We supported each other through embarrassing high school and college pressures. I chose HR because I like figuring out difficult individuals. Jason? He was a computer expert who could explain stuff I couldn’t.
Our team balanced each other perfectly. Four years ago, life dealt us the worst blow.
Jason has bone cancer. It was like the world decided we had too many nice years and needed to settle the score.
Still, we persisted. I got more hours, handled Jason’s house mortgage, and kept us going.
Jason, quietly and stubbornly, hoped his parents would change. But they didn’t.
When Jason’s family visited, I was still grieving from his funeral a month earlier. The same folks who abandoned him when he needed them most were suddenly on my doorstep like they belonged.
I opened the door with a lump in my throat, unsure of what to expect. I wasn’t expecting this.
Jason’s mother, Susan, stared at me with faux tenderness that made me crawl.
She said, “Alice, dear,” with insincerity, “we were so sorry to hear about Jason. You must be struggling living here alone.”
Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded. What could I tell her? For Jason, she was absent. She never was.
Charles, his father, acted quickly. He said, “We need to talk about the house,” in a chilly, businesslike tone. Jason was our son; this house should be ours.”
Words hit me like a gut punch. What I heard was unbelievable. “What is ‘yours’? Jason bought this house, and I pay the mortgage. In my name.”
Their lawyer, who had been absent like a silent executioner, spoke up.
His voice was smooth and professional, “Legally speaking,” “as Jason’s next of kin, his parents have a rightful claim to the property. The law favors the immediate family without a will.”
“You think you can just enter here and take his house after all this time? You didn’t care about him alive, but now you want his stuff?
Susan’s face become rigid and cracked. Alice, we’re his family. Water is thinner than blood. Jason would have wanted us to retain this house in the family.”
My anger was rising, but I kept calm.
Jason put this house in my name over a year ago after getting sick. We made sure everything was legal because this may happen. You have no claim. I’ll sell you this house for what I paid Jason plus four years of mortgage payments.
Charles approached with a threatening voice. You know we can’t afford that, selfish little… You knew Jason coveted this house. We’ll take over mortgage payments after you transfer it to us. My best offer. We’ll battle you in court if necessary.”
Meet his stare, refusing to back down. Charles, do what’s necessary. But before you charge into court, you should know.”
Their faces flashed doubt as they froze. Good. Let them feel a little of Jason’s fear from years ago.
I went to the living room sideboard and opened a drawer that had gotten too familiar during the past month. Inside was a worn, wrinkled envelope from repeated handling.
I held it up, its simple weight almost crushing.
Walking back toward them, I continued, “This is what Jason left to you. His last letter.”
Susan’s eyes sparkled with hope, greed, or desperation. She shakily asked, “A letter?” What does it say?
She accepted the envelope with trembling fingers as I handed it to her. Why not read it and learn?
She hesitated, then slowly opened the envelope and removed the solitary sheet of paper.
Charles and Jason’s brother Mark leaned in as she read, their expressions mixed with expectation and something sinister.
Their hope faded into cold, bitter rage. They were surprised by Jason’s letter.
Jason wrote, “I’m sorry I wasn’t the son you wanted me to be. You hurt me, but I’ve forgiven you, and I hope you can too. I wish things were different, but I’m content.”
After reading, the room was hushed, Jason’s words weighing heavy. There was silence. They stood there staring at the message like a terrible prank.
Susan finally looked up, her face contorted with disappointment rather than despair.
She said, “This… this isn’t what we expected,” her voice flat.
It was hard to resist the sour smile.
“No, I suppose not. You came here hoping you could take something from me to make up for the years you missed with him. You only got Jason’s forgiveness. That’s more than you deserve.”
Charles tightened his fists, furious. You think you’re righteous, right? Sitting in his house, pretending you were his only carer.”
I breathed deeply to calm myself.
I felt equally nervous and ready for this moment.
Don’t think I’m righteous, Charles. I know I supported Jason when you didn’t. I held his hand when he was terrified and found him a home when you turned him out. To remove this house from me, you must give me an honest response, which you’ve never provided Jason.
They stared at me, my words calming their wrath.
You cut connections with your son—why? Why did you ignore his reconciliation attempts? Please answer those questions honestly without falsehoods or excuses, and I’ll consider your request. If you can’t, you have no claim to his belongings.”
The hush was oppressive. Their lawyer shuffled uneasily, looking at them like he wanted to leave.
Susan looked around the room, not at me, while Charles searched for the proper words, opening and closing his mouth as if the truth was inside him.
Finally, Susan whispered to break the silence. “We were… Due to his unwillingness to comply, we decided it was best for him to live without us.
Her remarks rang hollow and remorseless.
They also knew. I could see it in their expressions as they realized there was no reason for what they had done to remove the grief they had caused their kid.
Head shaking, a sorrowful smile tugged at my lips. “That’s inadequate. Never good enough.”
Realizing their situation was hopeless, the lawyer cleared his throat. Mr. and Mrs. Miller, I think we should depart. Nothing else to do.”
Their eyes stared at him, then at me, and for the first time I saw something other than rage or entitlement. Was defeated. Plain and simple.
They left the house without saying a word, their footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. I followed them to the door and watched them get into their car and drive away, feeling overwhelmed by what had happened.
I felt grief and relief as I closed the door behind them, a strange combination that left me empty and full.
I defended Jason’s memory and legacy from unworthy people after he died. At least that was something.
With a final sigh, I shut the door, the deadbolt quietly affirming everything I’d worked for. We owned the house, not mine. Jason’s memories would live on in these walls and my heart forever.
Inspired by true events and people, this work is fictionalized for creativity. To preserve privacy and enrich the story, names, characters, and facts were changed. The author does not imply any resemblance to real people, events, or places.
From amomama.com
