Chapter 4
If I remember right, at my older sister’s house, she was always jumping to do everything.
Laundry, cooking, scrubbing floors, cleaning–hell, she even insisted on handling all the school pick–ups for the kids herself.
And that bad back of hers? According to her, she wrecked it helping her precious eldest daughter.
In my past life, I thought she was working too damn hard. Plus, when she stayed with me, she’d barely lift a finger–so I waited on her hand and foot.
If she didn’t feel like cooking, I’d drop my work bag the second I walked through the door, no matter how dead tired I was, and whip up all her favorite dishes just the way she liked them.
When she bitched about her back pain, I’d wait until Zoe was knocked out, then massage her with this fancy imported cream I’d begged a friend to smuggle back from overseas.
During these rub–downs, she’d eat it up like crazy, going on and on about how my older sister never listened and my younger sister was such an ungrateful bitch.
“Those two are nothing but freeloaders,” she’d say. “You’re the only one who made those nine months of pregnancy
worth the trouble.”
God, back then, how such a freaking idiot I was!
After a lifetime of Mom putting me down, I was practically begging for even the tiniest scrap of approval.
Yet, I never even stopped to think that my little sister is barely a year and a half younger than me, and my older
sister? Just two years older.
For that one meaningless pat on the head, I not only got my husband and daughter killed, but I threw my entire life
in the garbage.
Thinking about all this, I yanked out my phone and called my older sister right in front of Mom.
“What kind of big sister are you? How could you kick Mom out in the middle of the night? And that’s not even the worst part–she’s got a bad back, and you just don’t give a shit!”
Mom freaked the second she heard this. She started waving her hands around like crazy and hissing, “Shut up! Don’t
you dare talk about your sister like that…”
But I completely ignored her and kept going: “You’re a grown–ass woman–how can you still be so friggin‘ irresponsible? I don’t care what you say, if you don’t come get Mom today, I’m dumping her on your doorstep myself and letting all your neighbors see what kind of eldest daughter you really are.”
After finishing my rant, I hung up immediately without letting my sister get a word in.
-All Dowml
19.5%
Chapter 4
Seeing what I’d done, Mom burst into tears.
“What the hell? I just came to stay for a couple of days, and here you are–my own daughter–throwing your sister
under the bus!”
I shot back with fake concern: “Mom, let’s get real. Sis was the one who stayed home to marry and give you a son. Like they say, ‘sons are your retirement plan‘–daughters who marry out are like spilled water. This is between you
two, and I should butt out.”
“Besides, you can’t keep babying my sister. After all, you’re counting on her to wipe your ass when you’re old, right?”
Mom looked like she’d been slapped. Meanwhile, I called Mark over and told him to grab Mom’s bags–we were
hauling her to my sister’s place right now.
Together, Mark and I practically dragged Mom into the car.
The drive took barely thirty minutes before we pulled up outside my sister’s apartment.
When we knocked, my sister opened the door, and the smell of roasting meat hit us in the face..
Seeing us standing there with Mom, she raised her voice: “Are you kidding me? You actually brought her over?”
I matched her volume: “Sis, you’re totally in the wrong here. Mom’s spent years cooking your meals, washing your crap, and carting your kids around. Even if you don’t appreciate it, you should at least acknowledge she busted her ass for you. How could you kick her out in the middle of the night?”
My sister lost it completely. Her face turned bright red in a flash: “What the hell are you talking about? I never
kicked Mom out!”
So I put on my best shocked face and gasped: “You didn’t? But Mom showed up at my place last night crying her eyes out, saying you and your husband couldn’t stand her anymore and kicked her to the curb.”
Mom tried to jump in, but I cut her off: “Mom, don’t you remember? Last night you were blubbering about how your eldest never listens and your youngest is so disrespectful.”
“Don’t worry–if my sister tries to boot you out again, we’ll call the cops on her!”
My sister had no choice. She shot daggers at Mom while grudgingly letting her in.
After successfully dumping Mom off, I grabbed Mark’s arm and we got the hell out of there.
Before all this, no matter how swamped I was, Mom would call me daily to trash–talk my sister–treating me like her emotional garbage can. But now, she hadn’t called once in a whole week.
I was loving the peace and quiet–just the three of us, happy as clams without Mom’s drama in our lives.
Then one night, as we were sitting around the dinner table, someone pounded on the door.
Cal Durned It All Down!
