And somehow, despite living free in my home, she constantly criticized me.
Karen encouraged it.
Whenever I suggested Mia should start paying something, my stepmother would say:
“You have more than you need, Thomas.”
Whenever I asked when Mia planned to leave:
“She’s your sister.”
And whenever I pushed harder:
“Family helps family.”
That sentence became a weapon.
If I resisted anything, I was selfish.
If Mia wanted something, I was expected to provide it.
If Karen criticized me and I defended myself, suddenly I was disrespectful.
So I kept swallowing everything.
Until dinner.
After I told Mia she had to leave, she stared at me for several seconds.
Then laughed.
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’m serious.”
“Because I made one joke?”
“Because you’ve been living here for over a year.”
Karen leaned forward.
“Thomas, don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not.”
“She has nowhere to go.”
“That isn’t true.”
“You can’t just throw family into the street.”
I stood, picked up my plate, and looked directly at her.
“Watch me.”
The next morning, someone hammered on my bedroom door.
7:12 a.m.
I opened it.
Mia stood there wearing my hoodie, arms crossed.
“You’re seriously doing this?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t just decide I have to leave.”
“You’ve had more than a year.”
Her mouth twisted.
“You’re kicking me out because of one joke. Grow up.”
“It isn’t one joke.”
Then I listed everything.
The dirty dishes.
The parties.
Her friends.
The disrespect.
The lack of rent.
The fact that I could no longer sit peacefully inside the home I was paying for.
When I finished, she tilted her head.
“Poor Thomas.”
That was when I knew there was no point explaining anymore.
She didn’t think she had done anything wrong.
Worse.
She thought I deserved it.
Karen called repeatedly while I was at work.
I ignored her.
When I came home that evening, both women were sitting on my couch.
Waiting.
Karen stood.
“We need to have a family meeting.”
“No.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“No?”
“We’re not having a meeting.”
“This concerns everyone.”
“No. It concerns me and the person refusing to move out of my apartment.”
Mia groaned.
“You’re so dramatic.”
Karen folded her arms.
“Family helps family, Thomas.”
Something about hearing that sentence again finally made my hands shake.
“Family doesn’t get to insult me inside my own home.”
Mia laughed.
“You’re so sensitive.”
Karen nodded.
“Maybe if you lightened up once in a while, people wouldn’t say things like that.”
I pointed toward the door.
“Both of you. Out. Now.”
Karen’s expression hardened.
“You’ll regret this.”
Maybe I should have paid more attention to those words.
They weren’t just angry words.
They were a warning.
My father called less than an hour later.
He almost never called.
“Thomas,” he said, sighing heavily, “what’s going on? Karen says you’re kicking Mia out with no warning.”
“No warning?”
I almost laughed.
“She’s lived here over a year.”
“She’s had a rough time. The breakup. Her job situation.”
“And I supported her through it.”
“I know.”
“No, Dad. I don’t think you do.”
There was silence.
