I closed my eyes.
“No,” I said.
“You should understand the position I’m in.”
I disconnected the call.
My hand shook after I set the phone down.
I hated that.
I wanted the moment to feel triumphant.
It didn’t.
It felt like grief.
For ten minutes, I stood in the kitchen doing nothing.
Then I reheated coffee I didn’t want and started putting away the extra plates from the housewarming dinner.
I had just stacked the last one when my phone began buzzing.
Kevin.
I watched his name flash until the call stopped.
Then it rang again.
On the third attempt, I answered.
“What?”
He sounded irritated before he even said hello.
“Dad says you’re refusing to help.”
I leaned against the counter.
“Dad says a lot of things.”
“I only need a room for a few months.”
“Did you ask me?”
“I thought Mom and Dad were handling it.”
“It’s my house.”
“Okay, Madison.
I know it’s your house.”
His emphasis on your sounded like a teenager mocking a teacher.
“Then why would Mom and Dad be handling who lives in it?”
He exhaled.
“Because you’re making this way bigger than it needs to be.”
I almost admired the family consistency.
“How much rent were you planning to pay?” I asked.
Silence.
That answered one question.
“What about utilities?”
More silence.
“Groceries?”
“Come on.”
“So the plan was free room, free utilities, and probably free food.”
“I said temporary.”
“Temporary isn’t a payment method.”
His voice hardened.
“You have always thought you were better than me.”
“No, Kevin.
I think I’m responsible for me.
You think I’m responsible for you.”
He laughed bitterly.
“This is why nobody wanted to go to your stupid dinner.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
I looked at the wax mark still stuck to the dining table.
“Nobody wanted to come?”
He paused.
He knew he’d said too much.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
