PART 16 – My Sister Wanted Me to Trust Her Without an Explanation, but the Last Thing I Could Afford Was Another Mistake Made Out of Hope

By the end of the week, I had grown tired of hearing my phone ring.

Every time Marla's name appeared, I felt the same mixture of hope and dread.

I wanted her to call and tell me that I had misunderstood everything.

I wanted her to explain why she had become so desperate to get the jacket back.

I wanted to stop thinking about it.

But every conversation ended the same way.

She asked about the jacket.

I asked about the object.

She refused to answer.

Then we argued.

I began leaving my phone on the kitchen counter when I needed a little peace.

I didn't want Abby to see me jump every time it rang.

She had already started watching my face whenever Marla's name came up.

Children shouldn't have to study their parents to know whether the day is going to be difficult.

I had learned that lesson too late.

One afternoon, Abby came home and placed her backpack beside the door.

She looked toward the chair where I had kept the jacket.

"Mom, do you think Aunt Marla is going to tell us the truth?"

I stopped folding a towel.

"I hope she will."

"What if she doesn't?"

I looked at my daughter.

I didn't want to give her a promise I couldn't keep.

"Then I'll decide what to do next."

She considered that answer.

Then she nodded and went to wash her hands.

I stood there holding the towel.

Her question stayed with me.

What if Marla never explained?

I had been treating the truth as something I could obtain if I asked patiently enough.

But I couldn't make another person be honest.

I could only decide what I would accept.

That evening, I put the eighty dollars into an envelope.

I wrote the amount on the front.

I wasn't saving it for Marla.

I was keeping the money separate so I could remember exactly what had happened.

I had paid her for the jacket.

She had returned the money.

Whatever came next, I didn't want the financial part of the argument becoming another reason to doubt myself.

I placed the envelope in the drawer.

Then I sat beside Abby while she read.

She leaned against the arm of the sofa, holding her book close to her face.

I watched her turn the pages.

She looked comfortable for the first time in days.

I didn't want to interrupt her with another question about the jacket.

So I let her read.

After she went to bed, I returned to the kitchen.

The jacket lay folded on the chair.

I picked it up and checked the pocket one final time.

I was careful.

I didn't force the lining apart or pull at the seams.

I simply checked the place Abby had pointed out.

I couldn't find anything that helped me understand why Marla was behaving this way.

I put the jacket down.

Then I sat at the table and looked at the envelope.

Eighty dollars.

It was a small amount to some people.

To me, it had represented several days of food.

It had represented the hope that my daughter could go to school without feeling cold.

It had represented the last thing I could spare.

I had handed it over because I loved Abby.

I had accepted Marla's insults because I wanted to help my child.

But I had also accepted them because I was afraid of losing what little family I had left.

Tom was gone.

I had no desire to lose my sister, too.

That was the truth I had avoided.

I had spent years making room for Marla's anger because I believed that keeping a family together was always worth the cost.

Now I was beginning to understand that I couldn't keep a relationship alive by sacrificing my own peace every time she became upset.

I could love her without agreeing with her.

I could care about her without handing over something I didn't understand.

And I could protect Abby without teaching her to fear the people who were supposed to love her.

I took the envelope from the drawer and placed it beside the grocery receipt.

Then I wrote one sentence on the folded paper.

I am allowed to ask why.

I read it twice.

It wasn't a grand decision.

It didn't solve the mystery.

But it reminded me that I wasn't doing anything wrong by asking for an explanation.

I put the paper away.

Before going to bed, I checked the front door and looked once more at the jacket.

I had no new answers.

Marla had not explained herself.

And I still didn't know what Abby had found that had made her aunt so desperate.

But I was no longer willing to mistake silence for peace.

I turned off the light and went to bed.

The next time Marla called, I would listen.

I would give her a chance to speak.

But I would not let her frighten me into pretending that nothing had happened.

Click here to continue reading: PART 17: I Thought I Was Finally Learning to Stand Up to Marla, Until Her Next Call Reminded Me How Much I Still Didn’t Know