Chapter 12 Nelly
NELLY
Nine months ago...
Goodbye, House
I held the pen poised. A few more signatures, and the deal was done. My family home would change hands, and that would be the end of an era. Closing on the house felt just like getting a tooth pulled—you’re never numb enough. You always feel a bit of the pain.
A Beta in a bland, off-the-rack suit flipped through paperwork across the sleek conference table, droning on about the process.
Each time he mentioned the buyers, physical pain shot through me.
Why was this considered a milestone? That’s what the realtor said—It’s a rite of passage.
Growing up, leaving your family’s nest. The future is wide-open, Nelly. You can do anything you want.
How could I face tomorrow with broken wings though? How could I leave everything I’d ever known? I was like one of Grandmother’s sit-around birds. Not real. Frozen in place, caught either mid-flight or clinging to a branch. I couldn’t actually soar away.
“A few more pages, Miss Shaw.” The suited Beta spun contracts in my direction.
Triplicate. Lines highlighted. I was yellow, the buyers were pink.
They’d arrive later to sign. The slim stacks of paper were passed to my realtor Jan first; she checked them over quickly, before nodding and sliding them in my direction.
My hand felt awkward as it began to slowly swoop my first name across the first line. The pen was impossibly heavy. I wrote ‘Shaw’ with a shaky, stunted motion that left behind ink blots. Better than tear drops though.
My grandpa didn’t need to be here. He was still on the house’s title, in case something happened to me, but I held Power of Attorney for both my grandparents.
We’d worked out a deal on the house years ago.
He’d sold it to me below market value, gifting the equity.
I’d taken over the existing lien, which was my responsibility anyway since it only existed thanks to my dance education.
I still couldn’t believe he’d set all of this in motion without me knowing.
Found the realtor. Gotten an appraisal. Done the math.
I could have said no. I could have fought him.
But he’d been so resolute that this was the right thing to do.
So, it didn’t matter that legally I could refuse. Listening to Grandpa now, after everything he’d done for me, was the least I could do.
When I hesitated to sign the second yellow line, Jan patted me on the back. She dripped with perky energy.
"Isn't this exciting? You're so close to starting your next chapter!" Her voice was too bright, each word ending in a little exclamation.
I’d been up since five. I’d nearly convinced myself not to come. But the paperwork didn’t care if you were ready to sign your childhood away, and the world was spinning regardless.
“Right, my next chapter,” I mumbled quietly before scrawling my name yet again.
Mechanically, I finished the paperwork. Line after line. Signature after signature.
I blinked, unseeing, as a new document pushed into my field of vision.
“Since you’ve opted for a direct transfer, we need you to verify your banking information again, Miss Shaw.
” This from the escrow officer, a Beta with a pleasant, if unremarkable face, sitting on the other side of Jan.
“The earnest money deposit is being held by Chamberlain Title, but the balance of sale will come from the buyer’s financial institution, East American Credit.
Both should clear in the next three to four business days. Just initial where I’ve indicated.”
We’d gone over the numbers so many times that they just seemed to blur on the page now.
Sales price.
Realtor fees.
Closing costs.
Balance of existing loan satisfied to lender.
Remaining funds due to Seller, minus earnest money deposit.
Earnest Money deposit due from Chamberlain Title.
The saving’s account number and routing number were correct.
“Looks fine,” I shrugged, pushing the document away from me after initialing.
“Please check carefully,” the escrow Beta urged.
“I did,” I responded numbly.
“Great,” she stood up enough to lean past Jan and press two fingers down on the paper. She slipped it back out of view. Thank, God. I didn’t want to look at the damn thing for one more second.
Why was everything reduced to dollars in a list now?
How much my pain was worth.
How much my career was worth.
How much my home was worth.
But the money break down was at least less hurtful than the inspection report.
This whole thing was going so fast, a rapid thirty-day closing.
The buyers I’d chosen had gotten their inspector out two days after we’d ratified the contract.
I’d chosen the Beta couple, even though the other people had cash in hand.
The Beta couple wanted to tear down a wall, which I hated.
But the other buyer? They’d wanted to raze the entire thing to make way for a modern monstrosity.
My choice had been one hundred percent emotion driven and not financially savvy.
I regretted my decision a little after the inspection though.
The other buyers would have been less of a headache.
Jan had to assure me it wasn’t personal.
Boy, had it felt that way. A detailed list with photographic evidence of every flaw in my grandparent’s house seemed like salt in a wound that already refused to heal.
They were picking apart my favorite place in the world, the last place I had left.
A sanctuary I was currently signing away…
Jan and I were in the living room, both on the old sofa. I had my legs tucked up beneath me as I stared down at the report and the buyers’ requests. My realtor was reading the bullet list out loud, all the things the buyers decided were egregiously flawed.
“Rotting deck boards. The hot water isn’t working in the upstairs hall bathroom. Loose handrail needs to be brought up to code. The cracked window in the kitchen needs replacement, and the attic fan motor is broken.”
“Can you stop. I’ve heard enough.” I picked at the knee of my yoga pants, the stretchy material snagging on a broken nail. To make myself stop making the problem worse, I crossed my arms.
“This is normal, Nelly. An inspector’s job is to find these things, and buyers will naturally try to get them repaired.
It’s not always a deal-breaker if you refuse.
We can negotiate.” Jan smiled at me soothingly, her hand wrapping around my knee.
Her own fingernails were painted a jarring hot pink.
They were expertly shaped, buffed, polished.
I looked down at my own unkempt hands, fingers curving over my upper arms just above the elbows.
I felt sad that I just didn’t care about my appearance these days.
“Let’s just get it fixed. My grandparents would want the house at its best before someone else moved in. They loved this place.” That was a lie. Grandpa had, in no uncertain terms, instructed me to fix nothing and sell the house as-is. I just… couldn’t.
“Great, I’ll let them know.”
The last few weeks in my home, instead of being peaceful, had been a parade of handymen causing noise and dust and chaos. But now it was done. I'd managed to sign my name on every highlighted line. I’d verified the banking details. I could never walk back into that house again.
Was this feeling in my body the feeling of leaving everything behind?
Hollow, empty, chilly. I felt like I’d never be warm again.
The Beta in the suit slid a copy of the closing documents into a folder embossed with the title company's logo.
"Congratulations, Miss Shaw," he said, extending his hand. I shook it, feeling nothing. "You've officially sold your home. The buyers wanted you to have this.” He held up a sealed envelope next, setting it atop the embossed folder.
“Thanks.” It was all I could manage.
I stood up, gave a perfunctory goodbye, and then began walking. I made it out of the conference room and nearly to the front door of the title company before Jan caught up.
“Nelly, wait a minute,” she moved around me, nearly blocking the exit. “Can’t let you leave without a parting gift.” Jan lifted one arm and brought a gift bag into view. It had a bottle of wine sticking out of its top.
“I don’t really drink,” I mumbled, eyes on the merlot. It was an ungrateful, rude thing to say.
“Oh, sorry about that.” Jan quickly snagged the wine and tucked it under one arm.
She’d yanked crumpled, glittery tissue paper halfway out of the bag too, but didn’t seem to notice.
“Still though, you’ve got a candle, gourmet chocolate, and a complimentary keychain.
I’m not sure why you seem so down, Nelly.
This is a great thing. You’ve made good money to start a new life with.
No more worries about rushing to find a job. ”
She wasn’t sure why I seemed down?
I’d told her more than once that I didn’t want to sell the house.
That if it were just about money, I would keep the place.
I had enough to get by for now. If I ran out later and hadn’t found a job, then I’d figure something out.
But this was never about the money. My sick and dying Grandpa wanted me to sell it.
I couldn’t keep it after that. Couldn’t go against his wishes.
Parting from the house was killing me.
“I’m not down,” I finally lied, “just out of sorts. Almost everything I own is in storage now and I’m living out of a few bags in a hotel. This would probably feel different otherwise.”
“Right,” she smiled sympathetically, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m so used to clients selling in favor of a bigger, better house. I forgot that—”
I only sold it because my dying grandfather asked me to. The words scorched through my head, pressing against my teeth, begging for release. I bit them back.
“This is definitely less fun than that option.” I shrugged.