Sitting outside the house made that impossible to ignore.
If I called them first, I knew exactly what kind of conversation I would be walking back into.
Why had I made Dad so angry?
¿Por qué estaba siendo dramático?
¿Por qué no podía pensar en Emily?
Why was I making this about money?
The physical facts could easily become background noise while everyone argued about my attitude.
I was not going to let that happen.
So I kept scrolling.
There was one person I needed before I said anything else to my family.
My attorney.
Not because I already knew what legal meaning every part of the situation had.
I did not.
Not because I had decided my father was involved in whatever issue surrounded those transfers.
I had not.
And not because I wanted someone to punish my family for being angry about the apartment.
What I needed was distance, structure, and a person who could look at what had happened without being pulled into the family story that had controlled me for years.
