I almost let it go to voicemail.
"Ariel, this is Brenda..."
I listened as she explained the balance past due and what bank department she was calling from.
"Ariel, this is Brenda..."
"I'm afraid I have some difficult news about your mortgage," she continued. "Foreclosure proceedings are starting as of today."
Her words broke something in me. I didn't even say goodbye, just hung up, pressed my palm to my belly, and whispered, "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm trying, I promise."
She kicked hard, like she was telling me not to give up. But I needed air, just one breath that didn't taste like fear. I went outside, blinking in the brutal sunlight, as I picked up my mail.
That's when I saw Mrs. Higgins from next door. She was 82 years old, hair always pinned, and she was usually sitting on her porch with a crossword. But today, she was out on the lawn, hunched behind an ancient mower, pushing with both hands.
"Foreclosure proceedings are starting as of today."
The grass nearly swallowed her shins.
She looked up when she heard me, wiped sweat from her brow, and managed a smile that wobbled at the edges.
"Morning, Ariel. Beautiful day for a little yard work, isn't it?"
Her tone was light, but I could see her struggle. The mower jerked over a hidden clump and stalled out with a groan.
I hesitated. The sun was baking my skin, my back ached, and the last thing I wanted was to play hero.
She looked up when she heard me.
A hundred things went through my mind. The way my ankles had vanished weeks ago. The unopened bills in my hands. All the ways I'd failed. For a heartbeat, I almost went back inside.
But Mrs. Higgins was blinking fast, struggling to catch her breath.
"Do you want me to grab you some water?" I called, already moving closer.
She waved me off, pride stitched into every wrinkle. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Just need to finish this up before the HOA starts their rounds. You know how they are."
I tried to laugh. "Don't remind me."
