PART4

I never agreed to that. Ben and I have not invited you to move in.

This time, Medelli didn’t respond immediately.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Finally, my phone rang.

It was her.

I answered.

“What do you mean you never agreed?” she demanded.

“Exactly what I said.”

“But Mom told us everything was settled!”

“Who is us?”

“Me, Kyle, Mom, and Dad.”

I sat quietly.

She continued.

“We’ve already started packing some things. Kyle arranged for a moving van on Saturday.”

I looked at Ben.

He mouthed, “Unbelievable.”

“Medelli, why would you arrange a moving van before speaking to me?”

She sighed.

“Because Mom said you wouldn’t mind.”

“Well, Mom was wrong.”

There was a long silence.

Then Medelli said something I wasn’t expecting.

“You know, Odalie, sometimes I think you enjoy making me feel like I’m less important.”

I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“How did we get from you planning to move into my house to me making you feel unimportant?”

“Because you always have everything!”

I looked around my hospital room.

The flowers were from Ben’s coworkers.

The little stuffed rabbit beside Eleanor’s bassinet was from a neighbor.

My parents hadn’t even brought a card.

“What exactly do I have, Medelli?”

“A husband who supports you. A beautiful house. A good job. Everything.”

I swallowed.

“Those things didn’t appear overnight. Ben and I worked for them.”

She laughed bitterly.

“Of course. Everything is always about how hard you’ve worked.”

I closed my eyes.

Then I said something I had wanted to say for years.

“Medelli, I’m happy you have a son. I truly am. But having a baby doesn’t give you ownership of the things your sister has worked for.”

She hung up.

I placed my phone on the bedside table.

Ben looked at me.

“That went well.”

I managed a small smile.

But neither of us knew that Saturday was going to become much more complicated.

At approximately eleven that morning, my father called.

I almost ignored it.

But something told me I needed to hear what he had to say.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Odalie, your mother tells me you’re refusing to help your sister.”

“I’m not refusing to help her. I’m refusing to let her move into my house without permission.”

He made an impatient noise.

“You’re making a simple situation complicated.”

“Then explain it simply.”

He paused.

“Medelli and Kyle have financial problems. Their landlord is increasing their rent, and they can’t afford another apartment right now.”

“That’s unfortunate. But why does that mean they can move into our home?”

“Because you have room!”

I looked toward Eleanor.

“Not anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means our house is prepared for our daughter. We don’t have an available room.”

Dad laughed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Babies don’t need entire bedrooms.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“You’re telling me my daughter doesn’t need her own room, but Medelli’s family does?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

His voice became louder.

“I’m saying your sister needs help, and you have the ability to provide it. That’s what family does.”

I took a slow breath.

“Did you ever consider asking us?”

“Your mother said she handled it.”

“She didn’t handle anything. She made a decision about property she doesn’t own.”

Dad went quiet.

Then he said:

“Listen carefully, Odalie. Your mother and I have done a lot for you girls. We expect you to cooperate.”

I frowned.

“What exactly have you done for me?”

He sounded offended.

“We raised you!”

I looked at the ceiling.

There it was.

The argument that always appeared whenever I refused to obey.

“You raised me because you were my parents. That doesn’t mean I owe you control over my home.”

He exhaled sharply.

“You’re becoming very difficult.”

I replied quietly.

“And you’re becoming very comfortable asking me for things you have no right to demand.”

Then I ended the call.

That afternoon, Ben received a notification from our home security system.

Someone had attempted to enter the garage using the old access code.

The system had rejected the attempt.

Ben opened the security application.

“Look at this.”

I leaned toward his phone.

The notification showed an attempted entry at 2:43 p.m.

The camera had recorded the driveway.

A familiar vehicle was parked outside.

My father’s car.

I stared at the screen.

“Why is he at our house?”

Ben opened the recording.

My father walked toward the garage door, entered the old code, and waited.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

Then he pulled out his phone and made a call.

A few seconds later, another vehicle arrived.

It was Kyle’s.

Medelli’s husband.

They stood beside the garage for several minutes, speaking.

Then Kyle walked toward the front door.

He tried the handle.

Locked.

He looked through the front window before returning to his vehicle.

I felt sick.

“They were trying to get inside.”

Ben nodded.

“And they knew the code.”

I stared at the recording.

“Ben, I think we need to call someone.”

Before he could answer, my phone vibrated.

A message from my mother appeared.

Odalie, your father went to your house to collect a few things for Medelli. Why did you change the access code without telling us?

I read it twice.

Collect a few things?

From our house?

I typed:

What things?

Her response was immediate.

Some furniture, the spare television, and a few boxes. Your sister needs them.

I looked at Ben.

He shook his head slowly.

Then another message arrived.

Don’t turn this into a big argument. We are family.

I put my phone down.

For the first time, I wasn’t disappointed.

I wasn’t even angry.

I was frightened by how far they were willing to go without asking us.

And I realized that simply telling them no might not be enough.

At 4:30 p.m., Denise brought our discharge paperwork.

I was medically cleared to go home the following morning, provided everything remained stable overnight.

I felt relieved.

I wanted my own bed.

I wanted to put Eleanor in her nursery.

Most importantly, I wanted to leave the hospital without another family argument.

But as Ben packed our belongings, his phone rang.

It was our neighbor, Mrs. Collins.

Ben answered.

“Hello, Mrs. Collins. Is everything okay?”

He listened.

Then his expression changed.

“What?”

I watched him carefully.

“Are you sure?”

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART5…