“And that was my credit card.”
She changed tactics immediately.
“We were going to pay you back.”
“When?”
“Eventually.”
“From what money?”
She had no answer.
I continued before she could invent one.
“You didn’t ask because you knew I would say no.”
Silence.
That silence hurt more than any argument could have.
It was confirmation.
My mother finally said, “You’re making your sister suffer over money.”
I remembered Lily’s finger against my shoulder.
You don’t even have a real family.
“No,” I said.
“I’m refusing to suffer for money your daughter decided I didn’t deserve.”
Then I ended the call.
Five minutes later, Lily appeared at my apartment.
She didn’t knock normally.
She pounded on the door hard enough to shake the frame.
“Emma! Open this door!”
I considered ignoring her.
Then I remembered the rehearsal dinner—the relatives staring into their glasses while she humiliated me.
I opened it but kept the chain latched.
Lily stood in the hallway wearing leggings, yesterday’s makeup, and the expression of someone who had just discovered that consequences applied to her too.
“Fix it,” she demanded.
“Good morning.”
“Do you understand what you’ve done?”
“Yes.”
“The hotel says the payment isn’t secure anymore.
They want another payment method.”
“Then give them one.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Forty-four thousand dollars?”
“That’s what the reception costs.”
“You already paid it!”
“No.
Mom used my card.”
“Same difference.”
I almost laughed.
That sentence explained our entire family dynamic better than anything else could have.
What belonged to me became ours whenever someone else wanted it.
What belonged to Lily remained Lily’s.
“It isn’t the same difference to the bank,” I said.
She stepped closer to the door.
“Call them and tell them you made a mistake.”
“I didn’t.”
“Tell them you authorized it.”
“I didn’t.”
Her voice dropped.
“You would actually destroy my wedding over this?”
“Your wedding existed before my card was charged.
Your marriage will still exist if your reception changes.”
That struck somewhere she didn’t want touched.
“You’re jealous.”
