Chapter 8 - The Clean Break
""You wouldn't,"" Megan whispered, her voice barely audible. ""You wouldn't send your own sister to jail.""
""Try me, Megan,"" I said, holding her gaze until she was the one who had to look away. ""You were willing to leave me here alone on Christmas to clean your house and watch your children while you laughed at me from an oceanfront suite paid for with my savings. You proved to me today that you don't see me as a sister. You see me as a resource. And I am officially closed for business.""
Mom pushed herself off the stool, reaching out a trembling hand toward my arm. ""Sarah... please. Don't do this to the family. What will the neighbors say? What will the church think if they find out about this?""
I pulled my arm back before she could touch me. The smell of her vanilla perfume, which had once brought me so much comfort, now made my stomach turn.
""You care more about what the church thinks than how you treated your own daughter,"" I said, shaking my head. ""That tells me everything I need to know, Mom.""
I turned to my father. His shoulders were slumped, his face lined with deep, permanent grief.
""Dad,"" I said softly.
He looked up at me, his eyes wet. ""I'm so sorry, Sarah. I failed you. I should have paid attention.""
""You didn't know,"" I said. ""And I don't hold this against you. The property tax account has been closed. I transferred the remaining twelve thousand dollars into your personal savings account under your name alone. Make sure you take Mom off that account on Monday. Use it to pay the county taxes yourself.""
Dad nodded slowly, swallowing hard. ""I will. Every penny of it.""
""As for this house,"" I continued, glancing around the warm, decorated kitchen, ""I won't be staying here.""
""Where are you going?"" Dad asked. ""It's Christmas Eve. The airports are packed.""
""I booked a room at the Bohemian Hotel on the riverfront downtown,"" I said. ""And my flight back to Seattle leaves tomorrow evening. I have friends waiting for me there. Real friends.""
I walked over to the staircase and called up softly, ""Noah! Claire! Come down, please.""
A moment later, little footsteps pattered down the stairs. The two children appeared in the entryway, Noah holding a plastic Lego spaceship and Claire clutching a stuffed bunny. They looked at the tense, silent circle of adults with wide, uncertain eyes.
I knelt down in front of them, smiling warmly.
""Aunt Sarah has to go now,"" I said, hugging them both tightly. ""I left some presents for you under the tree in the living room. Be good for your mom and dad, okay?""
""Are you coming back for Christmas dinner tomorrow?"" Claire asked, wrapping her little arms around my neck.
""Not this year, sweetie,"" I said, kissing her forehead. ""But I love you both very much. Always remember that.""
I stood up, picked up my carry-on suitcase, and slung my purse over my shoulder.
May you like
I didn't look at Megan. I didn't look at my mother.
I walked past them, opened the heavy oak front door, and stepped out into the crisp, clean Georgia air. The rain had completely cleared, leaving behind a brilliant blue winter sky. For the first time in years, my chest didn't feel tight. I didn't feel the crushing weight of family expectations or the hollow ache of trying to buy affection from people who were incapable of returning it.
