Desperation Answers
562 Words
Christiana sat cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by papers that might as well have been death sentences.
She'd organized them by how important they were, which was a joke because they were all urgent. Mortgage: three months overdue. Legal retainer still owed. Hospital from last week. Credit cards, maxed.
Her phone buzzed for the hundredth time today. Unknown number. She declined it. It immediately rang again.
"Hello?"
"Yes, this is Lisa from Premier Collections calling for Robert Sanchez regarding account number..."
Christiana hung up.
It rang again. A different number this time.
"Is this Christiana Kingston? This is Derek Walsh from Channel 8 News. We're doing a story on your father's fraud case and we'd love to get your perspective..."
She hung up and turned her phone face-down.
It buzzed against the hardwood. Text this time.
Her Dad's lawyer: We need to discuss payment arrangements. Call me.
She couldn't. She literally couldn't call him back because she had nothing to arrange. You can't make a payment plan with empty pockets.
Christiana dropped her head into her hands. She hadn't slept more than three hours since the hospital. Had barely eaten anything.
Five days until the first treatment payment was due. It would be Impossible.
The money she had wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
A knock at the door made her jump.
Probably another reporter. Or a creditor who'd decided to show up in person.
She didn't move.
The knock came again. Harder this time, more insistent.
"Ms. Kingston? I know you're home."
The voice was male. She didn't know the person.
Christiana pushed to her feet, her joints stiff from sitting on the floor too long. She checked the peephole.
A man stood in the hallway. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a suit that probably cost more than her entire apartment. He had to be at least thirty-five. Maybe older.
She'd never seen him before in her life.
"Can I help you?" she called through the door.
"Miss Kingston. My name is Silas Langford." He said, his voice firm. "I'd like to speak with you about your father's situation."
Her stomach dropped. "Are you a reporter?"
"No." He replied.
"A lawyer?" She asked skeptical.
"No."
"Then I don't know what we have to talk about."
"I'm here to offer you a solution to your current financial crisis." He said confidently. "You can let me in and hear what I have to say, or you can watch your father get transferred to state care in four days when you miss that first payment."
Christiana's hand froze on the doorknob.
How did he know about the payment deadline?
She opened the door slowly, keeping the chain lock on. "Who are you?"
Up close, he was even more imposing. His eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her want to step back.
"I already told you. Silas Langford." He glanced past her at the disaster zone of bills covering her floor. "May I come in?"
"I don't know you." She said quickly.
"Not yet." Something flickered across his eyes. "But you're going to want to hear what I have to say."
Every instinct screamed this was a bad idea. But he knew about the payment. He knew about her father. And he was standing here in a suit that cost more than her car, talking about solutions.
She undid the chain.
- Writer
