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

The next morning, I woke with the same question I had carried for days.

Why had Marla been so desperate to get that jacket back?

I made breakfast, packed Abby's lunch, and checked the weather before she left for school.

Her old coat was still hanging beside the door.

The jacket remained folded on the chair in the kitchen.

I had begun to hate the sight of it.

Not because of the coat itself, but because of everything that had happened around it.

I had wanted to give Abby something warm.

Instead, I had spent days watching my sister turn a simple purchase into a battle.

Before Abby left, she looked at the jacket.

"Mom, do you think I can wear it soon?"

I smoothed the collar of her old coat.

"I hope so, sweetheart."

She nodded.

Then she picked up her backpack and went out.

I stood at the door until she reached the end of the walkway.

When I came back inside, my phone was ringing.

Marla.

I almost ignored it.

Then I remembered the sentence I had written on the folded paper.

I am allowed to ask why.

I answered.

"What is it?"

She sounded calmer than she had during our previous conversations.

"Are you alone?"

I looked around the empty kitchen.

"Yes."

"Is Abby at school?"

"Yes, Marla. Why?"

She took a breath.

"I need to know whether you've shown anyone what she found."

"No."

"Have you told anyone about it?"

"No."

She went quiet.

I waited for her to continue.

Instead, she asked whether I had kept the jacket in the same place.

I felt my patience thinning.

"Yes. It's still here."

"Good."

She said the word softly.

I heard myself let out a tired breath.

"Marla, we have been through this already. I need you to tell me what is happening."

"I know."

"Then please stop asking me questions and answer mine."

She didn't argue.

That surprised me.

For a few seconds, I thought she might finally explain.

Instead, she said she needed more time.

I looked at the clock above the refrigerator.

"How much time?"

"I don't know."

"That's not an answer."

"I know that too."

Her voice sounded different.

She wasn't shouting.

She wasn't insulting me.

She sounded like someone who had run out of excuses and didn't know what to say next.

I sat down.

"Marla, I'm not trying to hurt you."

"I never said you were."

"You keep acting like I've done something wrong."

She was silent.

Then she said, "I know you haven't."

I closed my eyes.

It was the first time she had acknowledged that since this began.

I wanted to ask why she had treated me so badly.

I wanted to remind her that I had spent the last of my grocery money buying something she had offered to sell.

But I stopped myself.

I had learned that getting every grievance out at once didn't always bring me closer to the truth.

I needed an answer about the jacket first.

"What are you afraid I'll discover?" I asked.

She inhaled sharply.

For a moment, I thought she would hang up.

Instead, she said, "I can't tell you everything right now."

"Why not?"

"Because I need to be sure."

"Sure of what?"

She didn't answer.

The silence stretched between us.

I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator and the sound of a truck passing outside.

I looked at the folded jacket.

Its crooked zipper caught the light from the window.

I had seen that small detail so many times that I could picture it with my eyes closed.

"Marla, I need you to understand something," I said.

She waited.

"I'm not going to give you the jacket just because you're frightened."

Her voice tightened.

"I know."

"And I'm not going to let Abby think she did something wrong."

"I don't want her to think that."

"Then help me explain what's happening."

She didn't speak for a long time.

Finally, she said she would call me again.

I wanted to ask when.

I wanted to demand a promise.

But I had learned that promises from Marla could be empty things.

So I said, "All right."

We ended the call.

I sat at the table for several minutes.

I wasn't relieved.

I wasn't satisfied.

But something had changed.

For the first time, Marla had admitted that I hadn't done anything wrong.

It wasn't much.

Still, I held on to it.

I returned the phone to the counter and went to wash the breakfast dishes.

The jacket remained where it was.

I didn't touch it again that morning.

Click here to continue reading: PART 18: Marla Finally Admitted I Had Done Nothing Wrong, but She Still Wouldn’t Tell Me What Was Hidden Behind Her Sudden Change of Heart