He's Heavy and He's My Brother

Of course, I made my big decision about striking out on my own after first choosing an IPA over a stout. And wouldn't you know it...Murphy is upset because 1. I am Irish, 2. I didn't have a Murphy's Irish Stout, and 3. My life has been too easy for the past year. Of course, I am talking about Murphy's Law.

I thought I had satisfied Murphy two years ago when he took my longish-term boyfriend and one of my best friends from my life within two weeks of eachother. The first left of his own volition, the second died suddenly. Two months after that Murphy sat next to me for three days and helped me to fail the bar exam. I know, boo hoo for me, or as Chief Dorsey in the Navy would have so eloquently put it - "My heart pumps piss for you, babe, now get back to work." I thought I had exorcised the demon.

So here I was yesterday, after having made arrangements for my cute little office, designing the sign on the window - trying to choose between Law Offices of KC, or KC Attorney at Law, or the ever-ambitious KC and Associates, all the while gleefully plotting my escape from servitude. I had just finished the dreaded conversation with the boss man about my leaving at the end of the year. I was happy, thinking life is good, it may be tight financially to start but it will all work out. Then the phone rings. You should never answer the phone when you are happy and in a state of personal balance, feeling on the edge of your next great accomplishment. Nothing good can come of it.

"KC?"
"Yes, this is KC."
"Do you know GC?"
"Yes, he's my brother."
"Do you know how to get ahold of him? I have the number 555-1234 and it's disconnected."
"Who is this? What is this about?"
"This is ZT, his house is in foreclosure and I have the second on it and he is now delinquent on the second."

Then the huge sucking sound the world makes for only you to hear as you feel the life being drained from you.

"How far behind is he?"
"Four months on the first, plus he defaulted on the second which triggers immediate payout or I foreclose too."
"How much does he owe you?"
"Roughly $19,000."
"And the bank?"
"I think he's about $12-15,000 behind. So he needs about $30-34,000 by January 5 or he loses the house."

Silly me, I went to law school for my $30,000. Sister-brother resentment building. He always had the better toys too. Parents always overcompensating. Thinking back to how my parents gave him an "advance on his inheritance" of about $80k to get into the stupid house less than two years ago because "he isn't as self-sufficient as you." Damn myself for not getting stoned and surfing for the past 34 years. Why be responsible? Why should I work when he has never had to? Screw him!!!

"Don't worry ZT. Let me talk to him and I'll take care of it no matter what."

I stewed all day. Wavering between - 'let the bastard hit rock bottom' and 'this will kill my parents so I'd better do something'. In the end I am a sucker and the latter won out. I went to his house last night, figured out a resolution that is essentially me bailing him out and me being in charge of selling the house and distributing the more than $250k in equity (it is southern California) he stands to lose if I don't bail him out. Of course, I'll put it where he can't touch it except in small increments - to get back at him for putting M80's in my Barbie dolls and blowing their heads off. Who's in charge now GI Joe?

So here I sit, Power of Attorney signed, older brother berated, loan sharks at bay, my own mortgage company already tabulating how much they'll give me against my own house, trying to figure out how I'll manage two mortgage payments (I still have to pay mine), and contemplating starting a new business on my own. Heading out at this moment doesn't sound too smart. I start to talk myself out of it. Worry about worst case scenarios. Another dream thwarted. Boo hoo...Chief Dorsey's sage words ringing in my ears...

Then I decided, screw Murphy, time to get back to work.