“Yes,” Dad said. “We’re all family, and family helps each other.”
At that point, Martha finally looked up from her phone.
“Wow, Abby,” she said, smirking. “I didn’t realize helping your sister was such a big deal for you.”
I felt my hands tighten into fists under the table. I didn’t want to snap. But the entitlement in her voice was unbearable.
“It’s not about that,” I said. “I have my own life, my own job. I can’t just drop everything to babysit.”
“You’re being selfish,” Mom said, her tone sharp. “Martha’s going through a really hard time right now. The least you can do is help her out.”
“Why is it my responsibility to fix her choices?” I shot back, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm. “She’s 32 years old. She’s not a kid anymore.”
Martha gave me the “Are you kidding me?” look.
“Look, that’s enough,” Dad said, his tone firm. “We’re all in this together, whether you like it or not. You’re living under our roof, and we expect you to contribute.”
“Family?” I said. “I pay rent. I buy my own groceries. I help with chores. How is that not enough?”
The room went silent for a moment, and I could feel the tension hanging in the air. Martha just sat there looking smug like she’d already won.
“Well,” Mom finally said, “if you’re not willing to help, maybe we need to rethink your living arrangement.”
My stomach dropped.
“Are you threatening to kick me out?”
“Of course not,” Mom said quickly. “But if you’re not willing to contribute more, maybe we need to discuss raising your rent.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d been doing everything I could to be a good tenant, if you could even call it that. And now they were trying to guilt me into taking on responsibilities that weren’t mine.
“You’re seriously going to do this?” I asked, my voice shaking. “You’re going to punish me for not wanting to be Martha’s free nanny?”
“It’s not punishment,” Dad said. “It’s about being part of the family.”
“It’s about you two enabling Martha like you always have,” I said, standing up from the table. “And now you’re trying to drag me into it.”
“Don’t talk about your sister like that,” Mom snapped.
“I’m done,” I said, turning toward the stairs. “You want to help Martha? Fine, but leave me out of it.”
I stormed upstairs and slammed the door to my room, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn’t believe what had just happened.
I’d always known my parents favored Martha, but this was on a whole new level. It felt like it was about control. They wanted to keep me under their roof so they could manipulate me into doing whatever they needed.
The thing that really stuck with me was how smug Martha looked through the whole conversation. She barely said a word, just sat there scrolling on her phone like none of it was her problem.
And I guess in her mind it wasn’t. Mom and Dad were already bending over backward to accommodate her. And now they were trying to drag me into it, too.
I don’t think I slept more than a couple of hours that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept replaying the conversation in my head, thinking of all the things I should have said but didn’t.
By the time my alarm went off the next morning, I was still angry, but mostly I felt stuck. I couldn’t just up and leave.
I mean, I’d thought about it, packing up my stuff and finding my own place, but it wasn’t that simple. I was only a few months into my teaching job and still trying to save up. Rent in the area was insane, and I couldn’t afford to live alone on my salary.