Chapter 2 - The RepossessionThe elevator opened onto Briana’s floor to reveal a lavish balloon arch in beige, cream, and pale pink. Gold foil balloons spelled out NEW HOME, NEW ENERGY across the transom above her open front door.
Inside, softly thumping lo-fi music wafted through a room smelling of scented candles and catering trays. Forty guests held wine glasses and small plates, admiring the bright, open-concept living space.
Briana stood near the kitchen island wearing a sleek white jumpsuit, gesturing proudly toward the gleaming stainless-steel refrigerator. “And it makes two kinds of ice!” she was telling three well-dressed women. “Regular cubes and the little fancy crushed ones!”
Then her eyes found me standing in the entryway.
“Sylvia!” Briana called out, hurrying over and wrapping her arms around me. “I knew you’d come around and support us! You look... well, you came straight from work!”
Behind me, Darnell stepped into the foyer wearing his high-visibility vest, flanked by two burly movers carrying folded moving blankets and heavy dollies.
Briana’s smile flickered. Her eyes darted from Darnell’s boots to his clipboard. “Who are they?”
Darnell gave a cheerful nod. “Afternoon. Scheduled pickup.”
“Pickup for what?” Briana asked, her voice tight.
I picked up a miniature Swedish meatball from a passing tray. “For all of this.”
Briana blinked, her brow furrowing. “What?”
“Amazon returns,” I said calmly. “I filed them Tuesday morning right after Mom texted me.”
She stared at me, then at Darnell, then back at her refrigerator. “You’re joking. Sylvia, this is my housewarming party!”
“And this is my line of credit,” I replied.
Mom pushed her way through a cluster of guests near the balloon arch, holding a glass of prosecco. “Sylvia! What is the meaning of this scene?”
“I’m returning the fourteen thousand dollars of unauthorized charges you placed on my card,” I said.
“They were for your sister!” Mom hissed, keeping her voice low as several guests turned around. “You have great credit and a steady manager’s salary! Family helps family!”
Darnell casually adjusted his clipboard. “My uncle says something very similar right before he takes catalytic converters.”
Mom turned crimson. “Excuse me?!”
“Darnell, let’s start with the smaller items,” I said, pointing toward the kitchen. “The espresso machine.”
Briana lunged forward, physically blocking the counter as one of the movers stepped up with a rolls of packing wrap. “No! You cannot take the espresso machine! I already frothed oat milk today!”
“Then this will be a fascinating period of personal growth,” I noted.
A hush fell over the room. The music kept playing in the background, but the forty guests went entirely still. My cousin Tessa sat on a velvet ottoman in the corner, balancing a plate of charcuterie on her knees, giving me a silent, furious thumbs-up.
The mover unplugged the $1,200 Italian espresso machine, wrapped the cord cleanly around its base, and carried it out the door. Briana followed him into the hallway, protesting loudly about her artisanal coffee beans.
Darnell checked his sheet. “Bar stools.”
Two men sitting at the breakfast bar immediately stood up. One raised his glass in surrender. “I am entirely neutral in this conflict.”
His girlfriend glared at him. “You’ve never been more engaged in anything in your life.”
The bar stools disappeared down the hall. Next came the six velvet dining chairs. Guests shuffled out of the way as the chairs were loaded onto dollies. The charcuterie board was passed hand-to-hand across the living room like an emergency bucket brigade, eventually coming to rest on a windowsill next to a potted fern.
Chase burst out of the master bedroom wearing an unbuttoned linen shirt. “What the hell is going on here? Why are people taking our stuff?!”
“Sylvia is stealing our apartment!” Briana shrieked, tears finally smearing her eyeliner.
“I’m returning my merchandise,” I corrected. “Every single item bought on my account.”
Darnell walked up to the seventy-five-inch television mounted on the living room wall. It was currently displaying a digital photo slideshow of Briana and Chase posing with paint cans. He unhooked the power cable. The screen went black mid-frame.
A guest near the sofa murmured, “The documentary has been canceled.”
Mom stepped right into my face, her voice trembling with rage. “A normal, loving sister would have talked to us first!”
“A normal, loving mother would have asked before spending fourteen grand on my credit card,” I replied coldly.
Mom folded her arms, her chin held high. “You can afford it!”
The room gasped.
May you like
There it was. The foundational truth of my entire adult life with my family. Not We’re sorry. Not We made a mistake. Just You can afford it.
“Darnell,” I said softly, looking past my mother’s furious eyes. “Let's go get the bed.”
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