The roof was still leaking, my husband still ignoring it, and I had just pulled out the ladder when the doorbell rang. I wasn’t ready to see my brother — especially not with hollow eyes and a request that would drain our savings and break my heart a week later.
The morning rain had stopped, but the roof kept whispering like it had something to say I didn’t want to hear.
Drip. Drip.
Always the same tired spot—right over the corner of the hallway rug.
The one Carl’s muddy boots had worn thin last spring.
I’d told him five times this week alone, “That roof’s not gonna patch itself.”
And five times, he’d kissed me on the forehead, half-listening, and mumbled, “I’ll get to it, babe,” before grabbing his dented lunch pail and travel mug and bolting out the door, twenty minutes behind, as always.
So I stayed home. Took a personal day from the library and slipped into what I call my “chore armor”—old gray sweatpants with a bleach stain the size of Idaho and Carl’s hand-me-down flannel.
I pulled the ladder out from the garage, stepping around a loose rake and Sadie’s forgotten soccer cleats.
I was just dragging the ladder toward the hallway when the doorbell rang.
We don’t get many visitors. Not on weekdays.
Not out here.
I wiped my hands on my thighs and opened the front door.
“Evan?” I blinked, not sure I was seeing right.
He stood there, swaying slightly, holding his baseball cap like it was something fragile.
His face looked like it hadn’t seen real sleep in days. Pale. Eyes sunken in with bluish half-moons underneath.
His hair stuck up in the back like he’d been running his hands through it nonstop.
“Hey, Annie,” he said.
Voice soft, like he was testing the word.
I stepped aside without thinking. “Come in.”
Inside, he didn’t look around.
Just sat down on the edge of the sofa like he might spring up again any second.
“I’m in trouble, sis.”
That’s how he said it. Flat.
Cracked.
I sat in the chair across from him, heart beginning to race.
“What kind of trouble?”
“It’s the business.” He rubbed his hands together.
“The landscaping company. It’s not doing good. Actually, it’s drowning.”
I said nothing, letting him talk.
“I expanded too fast.
Took out loans.
Bought new trucks. Hired extra guys. Then came the dry season…
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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