I adjusted the bandage on my forehead. “I thought you wanted me to stay away,” I said. My voice was flat, completely devoid of emotion. “You told me to stay away until I was ready to apologize properly. I’m just doing what you asked. I didn’t think you’d want a guarantor who ruins your moments.” There was a long pause. I could hear Toby’s heavy breathing. He was trying to process the fact that his quiet, obedient older sister had just ruined his life with a single phone call.

“You selfish monster!” he roared. “We needed that house! Lacy is on the floor crying! Her parents are disgusted with me! You did this on purpose!” I didn’t raise my voice. “Lacy threw a four-pound brass candle holder at my head, Toby. I have three stitches. You didn’t even buy me a bandage. You should go comfort your fiancée. She sounds very traumatized.” I hung up the phone before he could reply. I blocked his number immediately after.

But the story didn’t end there. Toby, in his infinite wisdom, decided to call our mother to complain about my “betrayal.” He thought Mom would take his side, as she always did. He told her that I had backed out of the loan out of pure spite and cost him his life savings. He forgot to mention one tiny detail. He didn’t tell her why I was in the hospital. Mom called me, frantic, asking what was going on. I didn’t argue. I didn’t yell. I just took a picture of my stitched forehead and texted it to her, along with a screenshot of Toby’s text message.

Mom didn’t call me back. Instead, she drove straight to Toby’s apartment. She didn’t even knock. She walked in and found Toby and Lacy packing up their things, preparing to move out of their rental since they had already given notice. Mom is a quiet, polite Midwestern woman, but when she saw what they had done to me, she lost her temper for the first time in her life. She demanded that Toby pay for my emergency room copay and my medical bills immediately. When Toby refused, saying he had no money left, Mom delivered the final blow.

She told him that the loan she had given him for the deposit, which was a substantial $15,000, was no longer a gift. She wanted it repaid immediately, or she would take him to small claims court. She also told him he was no longer welcome at Thanksgiving or Christmas. Lacy tried to scream at our mother, calling her a crazy old woman, but Mom just walked out, leaving them to deal with the absolute ruin of their finances. They had no house, no deposit, and no family left to bail them out.

Toby and Lacy ended up moving into a cramped, one-bedroom apartment near the highway. I heard from a cousin that Lacy’s parents were so embarrassed by the financial mess that they cut her off completely. They didn’t want their daughter associated with someone who lost a forty thousand dollar deposit in forty-eight hours. I don’t know if they are still together, and honestly, I don’t care. The heavy brass candle holder is probably sitting in a cardboard box somewhere, but I don’t think about it anymore.

Today, my forehead has a thin, faint silver scar just below the hairline. It’s barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it. I still drive my dented Buick, and I still clip coupons, but my condo is quiet and my bank account is safe. My mother and I had dinner together last night. She brought over a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies, and we sat on my porch, watching the sunset. We didn’t talk about Toby once. We just talked about the future.