Then six months later, as we broke for Christmas, I received a late-night call from my father. Well, I suppose it wasn’t late-night for him because of the time difference.
I answered, somewhat apprehensive due to the strange hour, “Hi Dad!”
“Are you sitting down?” he asked me. I could hear the heaviness in his voice, and I felt like a ton of bricks hit me. I had no idea what he could be about to tell me, but it definitely didn’t sound like it was going to be a good thing.
“It’s ok, dad; I’m out. What’s up?”
“Your aunt and uncle – we’ve lost it all.”
“Lost what?” I asked, sincerely confused.
“The money. There’s no more money.” My brain whirred – I didn’t understand what he meant. And I wasn’t sure what this meant for me.
“Oh.” Then I paused. “What?”
“The market crashed; nobody has any money anymore.” I nodded. I felt kind of empty. Not in the sense because it bothered me so much, but in the sense that I wasn’t sure how I was meant to feel.
“We’re getting you a ticket to come home on Christmas- ”
“I’m not coming home,” I interrupted him. Sure, my extended family’s money had allowed me to live in a certain area or to not worry about my finances, but I had never been that kind of person. You know, the kind of Society person like my aunt and uncle had always been.