Page 6 of Forever is the Sweetest Con
I point to the illuminated screen of my phone and roll my eyes, for my mom’s benefit, but she doesn’t even notice. She’s entranced by the Villain and the Pro Athlete slow dancing in the town square while a group of men in tuxedos serenade them on violin.
“Yes?” I say hotly into the phone as I slip into the hallway.
“Cleo Des Rochelles?” he says, pronouncing both Ss in my name, like he’s never heard of the French language.
“Yes?”
“My name is Michael Ka—”
“I know who you are, and I want you to leave me alone.” I lock eyes with myself—my ninth-grade self, hanging in an 8x12 frame on the wall of the hallway. She has braces and frizzy hair, and she seems utterlyoverwhatever is happening in the moment.
Same girl, same.
“I would like that also, Miss Des Rochelles, but there is the question of your loan payment, which is now one hundred and eighty days in default. I’m afraid if we don’t resolve this matter soon then we will have to send it out to Collections to settle it.”
“I don’t have a loan with First Union, and I need you to stop calling me. You’re not getting a penny out of me. You’re wasting your—”
“I can see in our records, Miss, that the primary borrower was a Mr. Dylan Rausch.”
My ex’s name stops my indignant tirade in its tracks.
Michael Kateb goes on. “But given that we are unable to locate Mr. Rausch, the onus is on you as co-signer to ensure the payments are made in a timely fashion.”
“Excuse me?” I sputter. The words he’s saying have the disorienting effect of being both completely absurd but also scarily familiar.
“Miss Des Rochelles, you acted as a co-signer on a loan for Mr. Dylan Rausch, executed on July 18th, 2023.”
I did?
I did. The memory comes back like a slap in the face. How none of the VCs he’d met with had any vision, how no one would take a chance on such an obscure technology, how he just needed me to believe in him. I’d felt so bad for him. He’d been working so hard, and he really needed my help, and so I co-signed on the loan. He’d said it was nothing, just a formality, and that I’d never have to think about it again. And I haven’t. Until now.
“Okay,” I say slowly, for fear of recriminating myself in some way.
“Cleo, they’re swimming with stingrays! You have to see this!” my mom calls.
I cover the phone with my hand. “Just a sec!” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
“If the principal borrower is unable to make the payments, then we look to the co-signer, which in this case is you.”
“I—” I start, but I don’t know how to follow. “How much?” I blurt. “How much is the loan?”
“The current balance is one hundred and three thousand, six hundred and fifty-one dollars and eighty-six cents.”
All of the air suddenly goes out of the room. I look at my ninth-grade self.You’re fucked, she seems to be saying.
“I don’t have that,” I sputter. “I don’t have anything.”
“Of course, we don’t expect you to pay the full balance, but we do need assurance that you are able to furnish the monthly payments, including the months that are in default.”
“And how much is that?”
“The monthly payment is two thousand four hundred and ninety-three dollars, which means that we need just under fifteen thousand from you at present, with the next monthly payment due in nineteen days.”
I slide down the wall, locking eyes with ninth-grade me. I’m ashamed for her to see me crashing out like this. “I can’t,” I say. “I don’t have any money.”
“Miss Des Rochelles, do you understand that if you are unable to make the payments, we will be forced to collect on your assets.”
“What assets?”
