As daylight came in, I began listing everything: help with tuition, emergency transfers when his business was starting, the car loan I cosigned after he got married, Noah’s medical bills before insurance reimbursed them, Christmas gifts, computers, school uniforms, vacations because “the kids deserve experiences,” the weeks I lived at their house when Rebecca got sick, the repairs I postponed in my own apartment so I could cover their problems.
And then there was the credit line.
Years earlier, when Daniel’s business was just getting started, he asked me to open a line of credit in my name because his company financing was delayed and he needed short-term operating money. He promised it was temporary. As soon as the business loan came through, he said, everything would be transferred over and my name would disappear. I agreed. He was my son. Who imagines that “a few months” will quietly become seven years tied to your credit history?