On My Birthday, My Sister Ordered Me Home To Feed Her Children And Clean My House

Chapter 3
I Packed Her Things While She Ordered Me Home Again

“Shannon, are you listening?” Fiona snapped through the phone. “The kids are getting cranky. I need you here now.”

I looked at the candle beside my dessert. “I took today off, Fiona. And I had a busy morning while you were at your networking lunch.”

“What does that have to do with making dinner?”

“Everything. I didn’t just take today off to celebrate. I took it off to pack.”

Three seconds of silence followed. “Pack? Are you going somewhere?”

“No,” I said. “You are.”

Her breath caught when I explained that the movers had packed her clothes, the children’s belongings, and the boxes from my hallway. Then indignation replaced confusion. “You went into my room? You touched my things?” I almost laughed. “I did what you did to my office, except I treated your property carefully.”

“Where is everything?”

“Mom and Dad’s.”

Her voice rose. “You sent my stuff to them?”

“They told me family helps family. Dad said you needed support. Mom said keeping the peace mattered. So I decided you should get that support directly from them.”

“You can’t do this! I live there!”

“You stayed there temporarily. You haven’t paid rent or utilities, and I’ve taken the legal steps my attorney advised.”

Then Fiona shouted that the children needed somewhere to sleep. That was the one part I had never intended to use against her. “I booked an extended-stay suite near Mom and Dad for one week. It’s paid for. Transportation and reservation information are in your email.”

“You planned this behind my back?”

“You used my credit card behind mine.”

“That’s different!”

“No. You only preferred the boundary being crossed when it belonged to me.”

Another call appeared.

Dad.

I smiled. “Dad’s calling. You two probably have plenty to discuss. Dinner is on you tonight, Fiona.”

I ended the call and answered him.

“Why is a moving company unloading Fiona’s belongings into my garage?” he demanded.

“Because she needs family support.”

“This isn’t funny, Shannon.”

“I agree.”

“You can’t suddenly make her our responsibility.”

I let the silence stretch before saying, “That is exactly what you told me three months ago.”

Dad had no immediate response.

Eventually he said Mom was furious. I reminded him Fiona had used my card without permission, relied on me for childcare and meals, and refused to respect my home.

“Think about the children,” he said.

“I did. That’s why they have a safe hotel room for the week. I’m ending an arrangement with their mother. I’m not punishing them.”

For the first time, my parents were experiencing the burden they had repeatedly described as small when it belonged to me.

Suddenly, it did not seem small at all.