Rachel finally arrived at 7:15 p.m., wearing workout clothes and carrying shopping bags.
She walked in without knocking.
“Hey, kids. Shoes on.”
Then she noticed me.
“You left them here for an entire day.”
“Oh. Kayla.”
I crossed my arms.
“Where have you been?”
She frowned.
“Busy.”
“I lost track of time. What is the big deal? We are family.”
“You left them here for an entire day.”
“I asked her to watch them for an hour.”
“And then disappeared.”
Rachel rolled her eyes.
“I lost track of time. What is the big deal? We are family.”
“The big deal is that she could barely stand today.”
Mom began gathering jackets, but I stepped between Rachel and the doorway.
“The big deal is that she could barely stand today.”
Rachel looked at Mom, then shrugged.
“She seems fine.”
“She is not fine. You do this constantly, and you have never offered to pay her.”
“I am not paying her anything. She is retired. She sits at home and does nothing anyway.”
Rachel burst out laughing.
“I am not paying her anything. She is retired. She sits at home and does nothing anyway.”
Mom flinched.
Rachel kept going.
“Honestly, I’m giving her something to do. She should be grateful.”
For one second, I could not speak.
I looked at her shopping bags, then at Mom’s hand pressed against her back.
Rachel mistook my silence for surrender.
“See? You know I’m right.”
I looked at her shopping bags, then at Mom’s hand pressed against her back.
An idea formed quietly.
I smiled.
“Family should help family. Please come to my house tomorrow for dinner.”
“You know what? You are right.”
Rachel blinked.
Mom stared at me.
“Excuse me?” Rachel asked.
“Family should help family. Please come to my house tomorrow for dinner. Seven o’clock. Everyone will be there.”
“Finally, you’re learning.”
Suspicion crossed her face.
“Why?”
“Because I think we should talk about sharing responsibilities fairly.”
She smirked.
“Finally, you’re learning.”
“Make something the kids will eat.”
She herded the children toward the door.
Before leaving, she called back, “Make something the kids will eat.”
The door shut.
Mom whispered, “What are you planning?”
I picked up the spilled cereal bowl.
The next morning, I called my husband, Mark, before work.
“Nothing cruel.”
“Kate.”
“I just want Rachel to understand consent.”
The next morning, I called my husband, Mark, before work.
He listened without interrupting, which told me Rachel’s behavior did not surprise him.
“What do you need from me?”
“How often has she been doing this?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. Mom has a kitchen calendar. I’m checking tonight.”
Mark sighed.
“Rachel will explode.”
“Probably.”
By lunch, Aunt Linda had agreed to help.
“What do you need from me?”
“Backup. And the biggest poster board you can find.”
By lunch, Aunt Linda had agreed to help.
Uncle Paul laughed for almost a minute before volunteering his name.
Two cousins offered to contribute imaginary obligations.
