At six in the evening, Uncle Charles, Aunt Anna, and Second Aunt showed up at my house together.
The moment they walked in, they sat down at the dining table without so much as a greeting.
"Oh my, sister-in-law, look at these dishes. My brother's not here, and this is how you treat guests?"
"You knew we were coming and didn't even bother to buy groceries ahead of time. You're not taking us seriously, are you?"
Mom looked embarrassed and was about to explain when I stepped in front of her.
"Sounds like Uncle Charles doesn't want to eat today. Then let's talk about paying back the money."
He choked, but instead of responding to me, he turned to my mom.
"What? Is Carrie the one in charge of this household now? My brother isn't dead yet. Since when does a junior get to speak?"
Mom shot me a look, then turned back to the three of them.
"You know Dale's sick. Carrie and I have been at the hospital nonstop—there's barely any food in the house. We rushed back at the last minute and didn't have time to shop. How about this—Uncle Charles, tell me what you want to eat, and I'll run out to a restaurant and pick something up."
She reached to untie her apron.
Watching her, my nose stung so hard I almost cried.
For as long as I could remember, because Dad was the eldest, he took care of his younger siblings. And as the eldest sister-in-law, Mom took care of them too. Every holiday, over a dozen relatives would show up expecting to be fed, and it was always just Mom and me in the kitchen. I complained. I protested. But my parents always said the same thing:
"Before your grandparents died, they made me promise to look after my brother and sisters. I can't break my word."
I stopped Mom from untying her apron and turned to the three of them, their faces still pinched with disapproval.
"Let's talk business first. Uncle Charles, Aunt Anna, Second Aunt—do you remember what I said in the group chat today?"
Uncle Charles cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Come on, kid, we're family. Why say things that hurt feelings? Caroline, you're not that young anymore. You know the economy's been rough these past two years—making money isn't easy. If we had it, would we hold it back? Cut us some slack. Besides, we are helping with your dad's situation. Didn't I transfer you money today?"
Second Aunt chimed in. "Exactly, Carrie. You think running my beauty salon's been easy? It's been losing money—I have no choice. Your dad's my own brother. You think I don't want to help? I just don't have the money. If I did, I wouldn't hesitate."
I looked at the three of them and almost laughed.
"Is that so? No money?"
"Uncle Charles, didn't you spend all of last month bragging that Brittany Abbott got promoted and found herself a rich boyfriend? That you'd be set for life?"
"And Second Aunt—business has been so bad, but you've opened three or four new branches, haven't you? Flying to Bali one week, France the next. Your social media can barely fit all your Hermès."
"Oh, and Aunt Anna—didn't you just pay the down payment on a house for Marcus Abbott? That high-end development downtown? Thirty to forty thousand per square meter. Any unit there costs several million, right?"
My throat tightened. I steadied myself and kept going.
