2: 2
I froze. Over the past few days, Julie Donaldson really had been posting a lot of gloomy things on social media.
Then deleting them a little while later.
Thinking about it now, she must have had a falling-out with her husband.
"Mom, this apartment has three bedrooms. You and Dad take one, Julie takes one, I take one. It's exactly enough for everyone."
I kept my patience and counted it out for her.
"Besides, if she's coming home to clear her head, this way I can keep her company."
But my mother just twisted her lips. "Then where does Duke sleep?"
Duke was Julie's golden retriever, spoiled by her like a flesh-and-blood son.
I thought she was joking, so I set down my bag and headed for the bedrooms.
"Mom, stop it. A dog gets a whole room now?"
But after I pushed open each bedroom door one by one, the smile froze on my face.
The master bedroom was for our parents.
The other bedroom, the sunny one, was done in the pink princess style Julie loved.
The smallest room, facing north, had anti-slip mats on the floor, with dog toys, a dog toilet, and a dog bed beside them.
All of it built in and fixed in place, impossible to move.
My mother came over with a sheepish smile. "If Julie comes home without Duke, she'll definitely worry too much to sleep. His things would be a mess in the living room, so a room of his own is just right."
"Then where do I sleep?"
Her eyes flickered, and she jerked her chin toward the balcony.
"If you really insist on moving back in, then all we can do is set up a cot on the balcony."
The balcony had no window screens, and at night it was full of mosquitoes.
"Mom, it's July. It's over ninety degrees at night. You want me to sleep on the balcony?"
"Didn't you always sleep on the balcony back home? What's wrong with making do?" my mother shot back, righteous as anything. "Duke can't take the heat. If he got heatstroke, Julie would be heartbroken."
Seeing me say nothing, she added, a little guiltily, "Besides, aren't you allergic to dog hair? Giving Duke his own room is for your own good too…"
I clenched my fists. "So the apartment I paid for—Julie and her dog each get a room, and I get to sleep on the balcony?"
My mother's face darkened. "Did you swallow a bomb today or what?"
"You were so sensible as a kid. How did you grow up to be pettier and pettier? Fighting your sister for everything."
"Look at Julie. In all these years, has she ever fought you for anything?"
But I was only a year older than Julie.
I couldn't hold it in. I gritted my teeth and said, "She already has everything. Of course she doesn't need to fight."
My mother choked on that, and her face turned ugly.
She slammed the table. "If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for buying an apartment that's too small. If you'd bought a four-bedroom, would there be nowhere for you to stay?"
I felt wronged and furious at once.
"Even with one more bedroom, it would just become Julie's walk-in closet. I still wouldn't have anywhere to stay."
That pushed my mother over the edge. She jabbed her finger at my nose. "Daisy Donaldson, what's that supposed to mean? You just have to argue with me today, don't you?"
"Your sister's going through a hard time right now! You're the older one, would it kill you to give a little?"
Right as we were locked in the standoff, my phone buzzed.
In the family group chat, Julie had posted a cutesy selfie with her arms around the golden retriever.
"Half an hour and I'm home! Mom, did you make the dishes I love?"
My mother replied in a heartbeat. "Made them, made them, all your favorites! Spicy fried chicken, spicy poached fish, spicy stew!"
I stared at the screen, my fingers going cold.
Only then did I notice—a whole table of dishes, every one of them blazing spicy.
But I'd never eaten spicy food my whole life. One bite and my stomach would hurt.
