Jordan called the following afternoon.
Pam answered while I was in the living room.
She listened for several minutes before asking him to come over.
I couldn't hear his full response.
I heard her say that we needed to discuss the accounts again.
Then she ended the call.
"He'll come tomorrow," she told me.
I nodded.
I had been expecting it.
Pam sat down beside me.
"He sounds worried."
I looked at her.
"About what?"
She hesitated.
"I don't know."
I suspected she did know, at least in part.
Jordan had been asked questions he couldn't answer with a joke.
He had been confronted with records that connected the accounts to my name and his address.
He had also learned that his mother was no longer willing to accept vague explanations.
That was enough to make anyone nervous.
But I wasn't going to guess at his feelings.
I wanted him to speak for himself.
That evening, Pam and I reviewed the records again.
We checked the dates of the payments.
We compared the amounts with her bank statements.
We made a separate list of the questions that remained unanswered.
How much had been charged to the three accounts?
How much was still owed?
What had happened to the money?
And what was Jordan prepared to do about the retirement savings his mother had used?
We didn't have answers to all of them.
I told Pam I wouldn't accept another discussion that ended with him promising to make things right someday.
She agreed.
The following evening, Jordan arrived shortly before supper.
He walked into the kitchen and looked at the table.
The papers were already laid out.
He stopped near the doorway.
"Looks like a meeting."
I didn't respond to the remark.
Pam asked him to sit down.
He took the same chair he had used the previous time.
His phone came out of his pocket, but he left it face down beside his glass.
I placed the credit report in front of him.
"We need to talk about these accounts."
He looked at the pages.
"I already told you what happened."
"You told us you got into trouble."
I pointed to the first page.
"That doesn't explain why my information was used."
He shifted in his chair.
"I was going to pay everything back."
"How much have you paid?"
He didn't answer.
Pam leaned forward.
"Jordan, I need you to be honest with us."
He looked at her.
"I am being honest."
She shook her head.
"You haven't told us how much you owe, and you haven't explained what happened to the money."
Jordan rubbed his jaw.
He said the situation had become complicated.
He said he had intended to straighten it out before anyone found out.
I asked why he had told Pam that I was gambling.
He looked at me.
"I didn't say it like that."
I remembered the conversation in the garage.
I remembered hearing about the casino in Oklahoma and the additional two thousand dollars.
I remembered Pam asking how much longer she would have to keep paying.
I wasn't interested in arguing over the exact wording.
"You let her believe the debts were mine."
He stared at the table.
Pam spoke next.
"You told me Gary was ashamed."
Jordan didn't answer.
"You said he didn't want anybody to know."
Still nothing.
The silence went on.
I could hear a clock ticking in the next room.
I had lived in that house for years without noticing how loud it sounded when nobody spoke.
Finally, Jordan said he had made mistakes.
He said he was under pressure.
He said he hadn't intended for the payments to continue for so long.
I listened.
I could accept that a person might make a bad decision.
I could understand that financial trouble could grow until it felt impossible to escape.
But none of that explained why he had used my identity or why he had allowed Pam to believe I was responsible.
I told him that.
He leaned back.
"Gary, I know you're angry."
"Yes, I am."
He seemed surprised by my direct answer.
I continued.
"But anger isn't the issue we need to solve tonight."
I tapped the records.
"These accounts are in my name. Your mother has paid more than twenty-four thousand dollars because of what you told her. We need to deal with that."
Jordan looked toward Pam.
She didn't rescue him.
For once, she let the silence remain.
He said he would need time to work out the amounts.
I asked him when he could provide the records.
He gave a vague answer.
I told him I needed something specific.
He looked irritated.
Then he caught himself.
"Fine. I'll look into it."
Pam asked him whether he understood that the money had come from her retirement savings.
He nodded.
She asked whether he understood that she had believed she was protecting me.
He looked down.
"Yes."
For the first time, I thought he might be beginning to hear what we were saying.
But I wasn't ready to call that progress.
Understanding a problem was not the same as accepting responsibility for it.
I gathered the papers into a neat stack.
"We'll talk again when you have the records."
Jordan opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue.
Then he closed it.
He stood and pushed his chair back.
Pam asked whether he wanted to stay for supper.
He declined.
At the door, he turned toward us.
"I never wanted things to get this bad."
I believed he might mean that.
I also knew the damage had happened regardless of what he wanted.
After he left, Pam remained seated at the table.
She looked at the empty chair.
"He is still my son," she said.
I sat beside her.
"I know."
This time, neither of us tried to use those words to settle the matter.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: I Had Spent Years Letting Jordan Mistake My Patience for Weakness, and I Was Finally Ready to Stop Doing That
The Man Everyone Thought Was Broke Came Home Early, and One Ordinary Conversation Changed What He Believed About His Marriage
Part 10 of 24
