My sister was in a terrible position after a fight with her boyfriend. She had two children and several part-time jobs on her frail shoulders, and she had nowhere to live because she had not listened to her mother’s admonition that a civil marriage would not insure against anything, and lived with Mark for years until he evicted her from his apartment with the children. It was unreal to get help and support from him, and a month and a half after breaking up with my sister, he got a new girl, with no kids, no stretch marks, and no obligations.
Samantha was no stranger to me, nor were my little nephews, and I myself suggested that they move into the apartment that my husband and I had purchased for rent. We had just finished renovating the place and were thinking of looking for a realtor soon, but since this was the situation and my sister needed a place to live, we gave her the keys to the apartment. Samantha promised that as soon as she got back on her feet she would move out, but years went by and nothing changed. Her kids grew up, jobs changed, my husband and I would only occasionally ask how things were going with the move, but Samantha begged for another month, another year, and before we knew it, my oldest nephew was fourteen. My husband and I had children too by that time and we considered the apartment where Samantha was temporarily living as a future home for our eldest son, who would one day grow up and bring his daughter-in-law home and we would give him his own apartment. But Samantha and her children must have forgotten whose apartment they lived in.
When I once again went to my sister’s house to talk about moving and to suggest that she rent an apartment with an acquaintance who charges less if she doesn’t need a realtor, my fourteen-year-old nephew interceded for my mother.
– Who are you, that you always come to evict us? – he shouted. – Mom said that we also claim this apartment, because you bought it with grandma’s money!
I lost all my words in surprise, and Samantha got frightened and mumbled something incomprehensible, justifying her son’s temper.
– Excuse me, please,” I began at a growing pace, “this apartment my husband and I bought with the money we earned ourselves. Didn’t your mother tell you that? And the “grandmother’s money” you’re sputtering about here is a third of what my parents and Samantha made from the sale of the summer house. Well, they kept another third and gave another third to your mother. I don’t know what she did with the money. But I do know that over the years that you lived here, I could demand a lot more from you. I didn’t even charge you the minimum wage when I gave you my apartment. And now I want you to move out. Anywhere.
I was disappointed in my sister, who complained about me to my children, as if I had done something bad to them. I was just asking them to vacate the apartment they had been living in for over six years for free. Sometimes I think I didn’t have to help my sister, and I wonder if I would have given her the same support then if I had known how she and her nephew would judge me later.
