Chapter 9 - The Breakdown and the Reckoning
Two days before my moving van arrived, Brooke intercepted me.
I had walked down to the small neighborhood bakery near my loft to grab a pastry and coffee. When I stepped out onto the sidewalk, a black SUV was idling illegally at the curb.
The passenger door flew open, and Brooke stepped out.
She looked unrecognizable. The sleek, blowout curls and designer athleisure were gone. Her hair was pulled back into a messy, grease-streaked knot, her skin was sallow, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. She wore an oversized trench coat that seemed two sizes too big.
“Natalie,” she called out, her voice raspy.
I stopped on the sidewalk. People walking their dogs swerved around us.
“Brooke. What are you doing here?”
She walked up to me, her lower lip trembling violently. For a second, I thought she was going to lunge at me, but instead, she just stood there, her fists clenched inside her coat pockets.
“I have to pay them four thousand, two hundred dollars,” she said, her voice shaking with a terrifying blend of rage and panic. “By Friday. If I don't, the Foundation’s legal counsel is referring the invoices to the district attorney for commercial fraud.”
“Then you should write them a check,” I said quietly.
“I don't have it!” she cried, drawing looks from a couple passing by. “Kyle emptied our business account to pay our mortgage! My clients canceled! Nobody will hire me, Nat! The venue operators in three counties have blacklisted me! Do you have any idea what that feels like?”
“I imagine it feels awful,” I replied, holding my coffee cup firmly.
“Then help me!” She reached out, grabbing the sleeve of my woolen coat with desperate, claw-like fingers. “You just signed a twenty-eight-thousand-dollar contract with Hearthlight! I know you did! Eleanor Vance told Marcus Rivera, and Marcus told Kyle! Give me the four thousand! You got that contract because of *my* event! You stole that client from me!”
I looked down at her hand on my sleeve. Slowly, deliberately, I looked back up into her eyes.
“Let go of my coat, Brooke.”
My voice wasn't loud, but it possessed an edge of steel so sharp she instinctively recoiled, dropping her hand.
“Listen to yourself,” I said, stepping closer so only she could hear. “Even right now, cornering me on a public street, you still think I owe you. You think my talent belongs to you. You think my money belongs to you. You forged my name on a grant proposal, Brooke. You tried to make me an unpaid babysitter for fifty people so you could sip champagne and play CEO. You did that to your own sister.”
“I was trying to survive!” she sobbed, tears cutting tracks through her makeup. “Mom told me you wouldn't mind! Mom said you always do what we need! She promised me you’d be there!”
“And you believed her because it was convenient for you,” I said. “You didn't care about my life. You didn't care that I had plans, that I had clients, that I had a career. To you, I was just a free resource. A coupon you could clip whenever your budget came up short.”
Brooke stared at me, her chest heaving. The sheer, naked entitlement in her eyes was finally warring with an undeniable, terrifying realization: the tap had run dry. There was no more water in the well.
“What am I supposed to do?” she whispered, sounding like a frightened child. “Kyle wants to sell our house. Mom won’t stop crying. Dad won’t even look at me. Everyone hates me.”
“You’re going to do what I had to do at nineteen,” I said. “You’re going to grow up. You’re going to pay your debts, get a real job, and learn what things cost when you actually have to pay for them yourself.”
“Nat... please,” she whimpered, reaching out again. “We’re sisters.”
“Sisters protect each other,” I said gently. “You were just my warden.”
I turned on my heel and walked toward the entrance of my apartment building.
“Natalie!” she screamed behind me, her voice cracking in the cold morning air. “Don't walk away from me! Natalie!”
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I didn't look back. I scanned my fob, pushed through the glass doors, and let the heavy entrance lock behind me with a solid, echoing click.
***