“Spare key.”
“You gave it to them for emergencies, and they decided your house was Kyle’s now?”
I nodded.
The anger I had felt the night before had settled into something colder and more focused.
“She said I would just accept it,” I said. “Like I’m not even a person. Just an obstacle to manage.”
Rachel ran a hand through her hair.
“What are you going to do?”
I told her about the birthday party. The guests. The presentation. The plan to let them believe they had won until they had not.
For a long moment, Rachel was quiet.
“You’re sure about this?” she asked. “This is not something you take back once it happens.”
“I know.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
I thought about thirty-four years of silent accommodations. The Honda Civic while Kyle got a Mustang. The phone calls that came only when someone needed something. The way my mother said I did not need anything as if it were a fact of nature instead of a failure of love.
