The landlord came back to me fourteen months after my nephew walked away from the office. He wanted twenty-two thousand dollars. I reminded him that my nephew had left the lease and that I’d already sold my car to cover the first demand. He said that didn’t matter because my name was still attached to the guarantee. I asked him to show me exactly where. He handed me the lease, and I finally read every page instead of trusting what my nephew had told me. On page four was a clause about assignment of liability. It said that if the lease was transferred, the original guarantor could remain responsible unless the landlord released them in writing.
I called my nephew immediately. He said he had never seen that clause. I reminded him that I had signed because he promised it was only for one year. He said the landlord had told him the lease was finished when he moved out. Then I asked whether he’d ever received a written release. He said no. I asked why he’d never checked. He told me he was twenty-six and had assumed his mother was handling it. His mother called me that evening and said I was trying to punish him for being young. I didn’t argue. I simply asked whether she knew my name was still guaranteeing the lease. She went quiet.
The next morning I went back to the landlord’s office with the original lease. The landlord admitted something he’d never told my nephew. The office had been reassigned to another business, but the new tenant had stopped paying, which meant the guarantee could be enforced against me. Then he showed me the assignment paperwork. My nephew’s name was on it — but so was mine. I had never signed that document. I asked who had. The landlord pointed to the signature and said it had been witnessed by the same person who witnessed my original lease. Then he turned the page toward me and said, “There’s one more problem.” The assignment had been approved three weeks after my nephew told everyone the lease was already over.
