“Mel,” I said. “Do you know why I never asked for anything?”
She shook her head.
“Because every time I did,” I said, “somebody said don’t be difficult. And gave it to you instead.”
Melissa closed her eyes.
“So I stopped asking,” I said. “And I started building. By myself. Because it was the only way to get anything.”
I looked at the house. At my kitchen. At the ocean through the window.
“This house,” I said. “Every board. Every window. Every dish in that cabinet. I built it. Alone. Without asking anybody for anything.”
I looked at her.
“So when you walked in last night and took it,” I said. “Without asking. Like it was yours. Like it was owed to you.”
Melissa put her face in her hands.
“It felt like being eight again,” I said. “Watching you get the bigger bedroom.”
My sister cried at my kitchen table for a long time.
