Her silence stretched.
Then she said, “I’ve watched your mother for forty years. I have never agreed with how she treats you. If you need me in your corner, I’m there.”
“I might,” I said. “I just might.”
March eighth arrived.
I should have been sleeping in Singapore.
Instead, I watched my house get invaded in real time.
The U-Haul truck pulled into my driveway. My father was driving. Kyle rode shotgun. Brittany followed in Kyle’s beat-up Nissan with two of his friends, men I vaguely recognized from old Facebook photos.
For the next six hours, I watched them move my brother’s life into my home.
At first, they carried boxes into the basement.
I allowed myself one moment of grim satisfaction.
At least they were following my mother’s original plan.
That satisfaction lasted three hours.
Kyle reappeared on camera inside my bedroom, directing his friends to push my bed against the wall.
“The couch goes there,” he said, pointing to where my reading chair had been. “And the TV mount needs to go on that wall. Brittany wants the closet cleared out by tonight.”
One of his friends looked uncomfortable.
“Dude, isn’t this your sister’s room?”
Kyle waved him off.
“She’s got like three bedrooms. She doesn’t need the big one. Besides, it’s not like she’s going to say anything. Myra’s like pathologically non-confrontational.”
I took another screenshot.
By midafternoon, my mother arrived.
She walked through the house with the satisfaction of someone inspecting a successful project.
“This will work perfectly,” she said to my father. “Once Kyle is settled, Myra will see it makes sense. She’s always been the practical one.”
To his minimal credit, my father looked uneasy.
“I still think we should have asked her.”
“Asked?” My mother’s laugh turned sharp. “Gerald, if we asked, she would have said no. And then what? Kyle on the street? Our son? No. This is family helping family. Myra will understand.”
That evening, they ordered pizza.
Three large pies delivered to my address.
They ate in my living room on my couch and watched my television.
My mother called my phone.
I let it go to voicemail.
Her message was bright and cheerful.
“Hi, sweetheart. Just calling to check in. I have some wonderful news about Kyle that I can’t wait to share. Call me when you land.”
