Page 3 of Stay with Me
“You’re working on a third master’s, and all of your degrees are in these weird subjects—I mean, Canadian Studies, Slavic Languages, Adventure Studies? Look, I know Daddy made the same deal with all of us when we turned eighteen, but you played him, and you played him well. You used his own terms against him. He’s tired of it, and I can’t blame him.”
“How did I play him, Angie? He said we all had two options: go to the college of our choice and get the degree of our choice and he’d pay for it AND support us until we had completed our education, or he’d give us the money instead. You took the money, Renee went to school and became a nurse or whatever, and I’m still working on my education. I mean, he didn’t say there was a limit to the number of degrees we could get.”
I looked my pretty little sister in the eye. “Your ass just doesn’t want to get a job and have to pay bills and you know it.”
“And you do? I mean, it’s not like you’re gainfully employed or something. You took that money, bought this place, and haven’t had a full-time job in your life!”
I reclined in my chair a bit. “See, this is where you and I differ. I’m a business woman. Always have been. I bought this duplex knowing that if I could keep the other side rented out, I’d always have an income and wouldn’t have to work full time. And for your information, I have a job. I’m a hair vlogger and YouTube pays me well.”
“Shit, you know what? I’m straight hating on you. Of the three of us, you came up with the best plan. Buy a house that generates income and who needs a damn degree? Hell, I should’ve done the same thing. Been going to school and dating all these men, looking for a husband to support me. These dudes ain’t tryna have a girl’s back!”
“Nicky, you can’t get with men for the sole purpose of them eventually supporting you. That’s kinda foul, you know?”
She sat up straight. “So what am I supposed to do? Get married for love and be treated like shit like Renee? Oh, I know, I’m supposed to fall in love with a couple of losers, commit years of my life to building relationships with them only to be dumped and become a thirty-year-old sexless loner like you.”
I stood and grabbed a coffee mug from my cabinet. “Since you’re sober enough to be a bitch, how about you throw that little dress of yours back on and leave my sexless loner house?”
She sighed loudly. “You started it.”
“And I’m finishing it. Leave. I’m not gonna sit up in my own home and be disrespected, Nicole. You can climb your spoiled ass in your car and go.”
She stood and stomped over to the coffee pot while I reclaimed my seat at the table.
“And don’t you touch my damn coffee pot. Go buy you some Starbucks or something.”
Her eyes flew up to the sky. “Look, I’m sorry, Angie, if I hurt your feelings, but you had no right to judge me.”
“Humph.”
“I’m just frustrated. None of my plans are working out, and now Daddy is telling me I have like three months to find a job and move out, and I’m nowhere near finishing this master’s in Demography!”
I didn’t reply.
“I love you, Angie,” she said in that little baby-girl voice that always made our father melt. It didn’t move me.
“I said I was sorry,” she whined.
“I heard you.”
She grabbed a mug, doctored up some coffee with cream and sugar, and sat across from me again. Nodding toward the door that led to my backyard, she asked, “What’s with all the paint?”
I glanced at the cans of paint stacked against the back door, and said, “My tenants moved out, so I’ve got to go over there and touch up the paint in a couple of the rooms, have the carpets cleaned, the usual.”
“So it’s vacant?” she asked in a perky voice.
“That’s what I just said…” I knew where this was going.
“Why don’t you let me move in? I’ll even do the painting for you.”
“Nicky, I make money off of that space. No way I’m letting your unemployed ass move in there.”
“I’ll get a job.”
“Call me when you do that, and then we can talk about you renting it. Until then, it’s a no.”
She hopped up and plodded out of my kitchen, mumbling something under her breath about how much she hated her family with every step she took. I leaned back in my chair, sipped on my coffee, and shook my head.
2