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.
I continued.
“She doesn’t pay rent. She doesn’t clean. She brings people over constantly. And tonight, she insulted me while Karen laughed.”
Dad slowly exhaled.
“I just don’t want this becoming some huge family fight.”
“It already is.”
He didn’t answer.
The next morning, I made coffee and walked toward the living room.
I stopped in the doorway.
For several seconds, my brain couldn’t process what I was seeing.
The room looked wrong.
Empty.
Then it registered.
The couch was gone.
So was the coffee table.
And the TV stand.
My heart started pounding.
