It was my mother.
She stood on my porch, her coat wrapped tightly around her, her face etched with a severe, disappointed grimace. Behind her, parked in my driveway, was Melissa’s battered sedan. Inside the car, I could see the faint silhouettes of Derek and Melissa sitting in the front seats.
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Mom,” I said, my voice tight. “What are you doing here?”
She didn’t answer. She looked down at my heavily bandaged, casted leg, and for a fraction of a second, a flicker of surprise passed through her eyes. But it was quickly replaced by that familiar, hard-nosed matriarchal stubbornness.
She pushed past me without asking, stepping right into my foyer.
“We are putting an end to this childish nonsense right now, Steven,” she said, turning around to face me, her arms crossed exactly the same way Melissa’s had been days prior. “I don’t care what petty disagreement you and Melissa had. I don’t care who said what. You are going to let them back inside this house today.”
“Mom, look at my leg,” I said, pointing down at the fiberglass cast. “I had surgery. I have two plates and six screws in my ankle because I fell on the porch. Your daughter looked at me, refused to help me, told me she wasn’t my servant, and left me in the rain while I screamed for help. Did she tell you that part?”
My mother waved her hand dismissively, as if my shattered bone were nothing more than a minor detail. “Melissa told me you had a fall, yes. She said she didn’t realize how bad it was because you’re always exaggerating things for attention. But that doesn’t justify throwing them out like garbage! They are living out of a cheap, roach-infested motel right now, Steven! Spending what little money they have left! It’s tearing this family apart!”
“They tore it apart when they treated me like a stranger in my own home,” I barked, the anger finally bursting through my calm exterior. “I am not letting them back in. Not today, not next week, not ever. If you want to house them so badly, why don’t they move into your two-bedroom apartment?”
My mother’s face twisted in outrage. “Don’t you dare turn this on me! You know my apartment complex has strict rules against extra occupants! Besides, you have the space! You have the money! It is your duty as a brother and a son to support this family when we are struggling!”
“It’s a two-way street, Mom!” I shouted, the pain in my ankle flaring up from the stress. “Where was their duty to me when I was lying out there in the freezing rain? Where was your duty to me when you sent those disgusting messages without even asking if I was okay?”
“I am your mother!” she roared back. “And I am telling you how this is going to go! You are going to let them bring their bags back inside, you are going to apologize to your sister for your disgusting behavior, and we are going to move past this!”
“And if I say no?” I asked, my voice dropping into a dangerously quiet register.
My mother stepped closer to me, her eyes narrowing into cold, calculative slits. The air in the foyer grew suffocatingly thin. She reached into her purse, pulled out a pristine, legal-sized envelope, and held it out in front of my face.
“If you say no,” she whispered, her voice laced with a terrifying, icy certainty, “then I am going to open this envelope. And I promise you, Steven… by this time tomorrow, you won’t just be losing your sister. You will lose this house, your job, and everything you’ve spent the last seven years breaking your back for. Don’t test me. I know exactly what you did to buy this place.”
I stared at the white envelope, the blood draining completely from my face as a cold dread seized my chest.
