Chapter 3 - The Porch Meltdown
Mom gasped loudly on the other end of the line. ""What do you mean you're not sending it? Emily, she's your sister! She has Caleb! They could get thrown out onto the street!""
""Then Melissa better find a job, or Travis can pay it with his Vegas winnings,"" I said calmly.
Before Mom could unleash a barrage of maternal guilt, I tapped the red end-call button. I knew the peace wouldn't last, but I refused to let their manufactured emergency dictate my life for another second.
Less than thirty minutes later, the violent rumble of Travis’s rusted pickup truck echoed down my quiet suburban cul-de-sac. Heavy, rapid footsteps marched up my front walkway, followed by frantic, pounding fists on my wooden door.
""Emily! Open this door right now!"" Melissa’s voice shrieked, cracking with hysteria. ""Open the damn door!""
I walked over to the front window, pulled the blinds back just enough to peek through, and saw Melissa standing on my porch under the yellow porch light. Her mascara was smeared down her cheeks, her hair was a tangled mess, and she was clutching the bright yellow eviction warning in her shaking hand. Behind her, leaning against the porch railing with his arms crossed defensively, was Travis, glaring at my house like I owed him blood.
I unlocked the deadbolt, opened the door, but left the sturdy metal security screen door locked between us.
""What do you want, Melissa?"" I asked, my voice chillingly devoid of emotion.
""What do I want?!"" she screamed, slapping the yellow paper against the screen mesh. ""I want to know what the hell is wrong with you! Why didn't you pay my rent? Arthur is threatening to take us to court on Monday! We're getting evicted!""
""That sounds like a personal problem between you and your landlord,"" I said plainly.
Melissa stared at me as if I had spoken in an ancient language. ""A personal problem? Are you crazy? You pay my rent! You promised you'd help me until I got back on my feet!""
""I helped you for eleven months,"" I replied, crossing my arms. ""Nearly sixteen thousand dollars, Melissa. That wasn't an obligation. That was a favor. And the favor is over.""
Travis stepped forward, pointing an aggressive finger at the mesh. ""Listen here, little girl. You can't just blindside a family like this with no warning! We don't have fifteen hundred bucks lying around! You have a fat hospital salary. Pay the damn bill and stop acting like a psycho!""
I locked eyes with Travis, smiling coldly. ""You seemed to have plenty of money to take my sister to Las Vegas last weekend, Travis. Why don't you cover her rent? You're a grown man living in her apartment half the week. Why are you relying on your girlfriend's younger sister to keep a roof over your head?""
Travis's face flushed a deep, ugly crimson. He opened his mouth to shout, but Melissa cut in, her voice suddenly shifting from screaming fury to desperate, theatrical sobs. She dropped to her knees right on my welcome mat, gripping the wrought iron bars of the security door.
""Emily, please!"" she wept, tears pouring down her face. ""I'm sorry if I was short with you! Caleb has nowhere to go! We'll be homeless! You can't do this to your own flesh and blood! Just pay this one month, please, I'm begging you!""
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A week ago, seeing my sister on her knees would have broken my heart into a thousand pieces. I would have rushed outside, pulled her up, and transferred the funds instantly. But looking down at her now, all I could hear was her cruel, mocking laugh in Mom’s kitchen: She’s too stupid to know we’re using her.
""You're not homeless because of me, Melissa,"" I said softly, looking directly into her red, calculating eyes. ""You're homeless because you gambled your rent away on blackjack and took my generosity for stupidity.""
