Abby heard the front door open and came running from the living room.
She had been doing her homework at the small table near the window.
Her pencil was still in her hand.
"Mom, what have you got?"
I held the jacket behind my back for a second.
It was a silly thing to do, but I wanted to give her a surprise.
She watched me with wide eyes.
Then I brought it out.
Her whole face changed.
"Is that for me?"
I nodded.
She hurried over and touched the sleeve with both hands.
"It's so soft!"
I watched her turn it around, examining the hood and the pockets.
She slipped her arms into the sleeves before I could even tell her to try it on properly.
The jacket was a little roomy, but that was fine.
She would have space to grow.
She turned toward the hallway mirror and pulled the zipper up to her chin.
"Can I wear this to school tomorrow?"
I smoothed her hair away from the collar.
"Yes, sweetheart."
She looked at herself again.
Then she hugged me.
It was the kind of hug that made a person want to believe everything would work out.
I held her a little longer than usual.
I didn't tell her how much it had cost.
I didn't tell her that I had spent the grocery money.
Children should be allowed to enjoy a gift without having to calculate what their happiness took away from the family.
At least, that was what I believed.
That evening, Abby wore the jacket around the apartment while finishing her homework.
She kept checking the pockets.
She said they were deep enough to hold her gloves.
I smiled when she said that.
Gloves.
It was such a small thing.
She wasn't asking for a phone or a new toy or anything I couldn't provide.
She was thinking about keeping her hands warm on the walk to school.
I made dinner with what we had left.
There was enough for both of us, though I knew the next few days would require careful planning.
I would have to put off one bill.
Maybe I could find a little extra work.
Maybe I could make the groceries last.
I had become very good at making maybe sound like a promise.
Abby sat across from me, the jacket hanging on the back of her chair.
"Do you think Kayla will mind that I have it?"
I looked up from my plate.
"Why would she mind?"
"Because it used to be hers."
I thought about Marla counting the money.
I thought about the way she had spoken about Abby being grateful.
"No, sweetheart. It's yours now."
Abby seemed satisfied with that.
She went back to eating.
I wanted to believe my sister had simply been difficult that afternoon.
Perhaps she had bills of her own.
Perhaps she was worried about Kayla.
Perhaps I had taken her words too personally.
I had spent years making excuses for Marla.
I could do it without even noticing.
After dinner, Abby hung the jacket near the front door so she wouldn't forget it in the morning.
She checked the zipper one more time.
Then she went to bed.
I stayed in the kitchen.
The apartment was quiet except for the refrigerator humming in the corner.
I opened my purse and checked the remaining coins.
There wasn't much.
I put them back and closed the zipper.
For a few minutes, I considered calling Marla.
I could ask her to return some of the money.
I could explain that I had only brought sixty dollars because that was all I could afford.
But I could already hear what she would say.
She would remind me that I had agreed to the price.
She would tell me that nobody forced me to buy the jacket.
And she would be right about that last part.
So I didn't call.
I washed the dishes, wiped the table, and checked the front door before going to bed.
The jacket hung beside Abby's backpack.
I remember noticing how bright it looked against the faded wall.
It seemed like a little piece of good luck in a home where good luck had become scarce.
I fell asleep thinking about the walk to school the next morning.
For once, Abby wouldn't have to complain about the cold.
I thought that was enough.
I thought the worst part of the day was behind me.
I was wrong.
The next morning began quietly.
I was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when my phone rang.
Marla's name appeared on the screen.
I almost let it go to voicemail.
We had said everything there was to say about the jacket, as far as I was concerned.
Still, she was my sister.
I answered.
"Hello?"
She didn't greet me.
Instead, she asked whether Abby had put the jacket on.
The question was so abrupt that I stopped moving.
"No. She's still getting ready. Why?"
There was a pause.
I heard a faint sound on her end, but I couldn't tell what it was.
Then Marla spoke again.
"Good."
Just that.
Good.
I waited for her to explain.
She seemed to realize she had said too much.
"No, forget I asked."
I set the spoon down beside the stove.
"Marla, what's going on?"
Another pause.
Then she said she had changed her mind about selling the jacket.
She wanted it returned.
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood her.
"You're asking me to give it back?"
"Yes."
I looked toward the hallway.
The jacket was still hanging beside Abby's backpack.
"Marla, you sold it to me yesterday. I gave you the money."
"I'll pay you back."
Her voice was sharp, but there was something else beneath it.
Something impatient.
Something close to fear.
I couldn't name it.
"Why do you suddenly need it?"
She didn't answer that question.
Instead, she said Kayla might still need the jacket and that she hadn't thought things through the day before.
I pressed the phone more firmly against my ear.
"You told me it was yours to sell."
"Jen, don't start."
"I used the last of my grocery money. Abby was so happy when she saw it."
Marla's breathing grew louder.
Then she shouted that she didn't care how happy Abby had been.
I flinched and pulled the phone away from my ear.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
I stared at the screen, wondering what could have happened overnight to turn a simple sale into this kind of argument.
The day before, Marla had been perfectly willing to take my money.
Now she wanted the jacket back before Abby had even left for school.
And she sounded desperate.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: My Sister Offered to Return Every Dollar, but Her Panic Made Me Wonder What She Had Suddenly Remembered About the Jacket
I Thought the Hardest Thing After My Husband’s Death Was Learning to Live Without Him, Until My Sister Put a Price on My Daughter’s Warmth
Part 2 of 24
