I am not asking you to understand that here.
I read that line three times.
Growing up, I had always found ways to explain the imbalance to myself.
Derek was older, so naturally he got a car first.
Derek played sports, so naturally weekends revolved around his games.
Derek got married, so naturally the family spent more on his wedding than they had ever spent helping me with anything.
Derek had children, so naturally holidays happened around his schedule.
There was always a reason.
And because every reason sounded individually plausible, I had trained myself not to look too closely at the pattern they created together.
Grandpa had noticed it anyway.
My phone rang again.
This time I answered Derek.
He didn’t say hello.
“Why did you call the realtor?”
I almost laughed at the absurdity of the question.
“She called me, Derek.
Because I’m the owner.”
A pause.
Then: “Okay.
Don’t overreact.”
I looked at the lockbox outside.
“You entered my house and arranged to list it for sale.”
“It’s Grandpa’s house.”
“It was Grandpa’s house.”
His voice sharpened.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I actually don’t.”
He exhaled loudly, the way he always did when he believed I was forcing him to explain something obvious.
“Mom and Dad agreed selling is the smartest option.
Nobody needs an empty house sitting three states away.
We figured once you saw the numbers, you’d stop being emotional.”
There it was again.
We figured.
As though my signature were a minor administrative inconvenience standing between the family and its plans.
“How did you get inside?” I asked.
He hesitated.
That was enough.
“Derek.”
“Mom had Grandpa’s spare key.”
I closed my eyes.
My mother had given him the key.
The same mother who had spent a week telling me that refusing to hand over my inheritance would destroy the family had helped my brother prepare my property for sale without asking me.
“You had no permission to enter.”
“Oh, come on.
We’re family.”
“Family doesn’t make you the owner.”
His tone changed then.
The reasonable older brother disappeared.
“You really want to do this? Fine.
But don’t pretend Grandpa knew what he was doing at the end.”
Mr.
Levin was still listening.
I saw his name glowing on the speaker screen and felt something inside me become very still.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Derek realized too late that he had said too much.
“Nothing.”
