When my sister showed up out of the blue, asking to crash for “just two weeks,” I reluctantly agreed. Three months later, everything I thought I knew about my marriage — and my family — came crashing down.
I’m 32, and my sister Cindy is two years older.
We were never close, not even when we shared a bunk bed as kids. Where I was meticulous, she was messy.
Where I planned everything down to the hour, she lived as if tomorrow didn’t exist.
Even though she was the “big sister,” I was always the responsible one.
Cindy snuck out, barely passed school, and lived for drama!
The second she turned 18, she left home to “model” in Europe.
Or so she said.
She sent a few postcards over the years, but we mostly stayed in touch when she’d make dramatic phone calls whenever she needed something. However, we hadn’t seen each other in person for years.
When I got married to Eric, she didn’t even come.
She called me from Milan two days before the wedding, claiming she couldn’t cancel a last-minute big shoot.
Couldn’t leave without losing her contract with her modeling agency.
“You know how it is,” she said breezily.
I didn’t, but I smiled and told her it was fine.
It hurt, but when Eric said I was too forgiving, I told him, “That’s just Cindy.”
Eric and I had been married for two years when everything unraveled.
We were stable, happy, and in a good place.
Actually, we were actively trying for a baby.
I had nursery colors saved on my Pinterest account, and we were slowly narrowing down baby names.
Then, one random afternoon, I received a text while grocery shopping:
“WHAT’S YOUR ADDRESS AGAIN?
I’M BASICALLY ALREADY ON MY WAY TO AMERICA. CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU!”
Two hours later, there she was. Cindy.
Standing on our porch with two suitcases, wearing oversized sunglasses and a leather jacket in the middle of summer.
She flung her arms around me as if we were childhood best friends!
“I just need to stay with you for two weeks,” she said, flashing that confident smile before breezing past me and into the house as if it belonged to her.
Eric looked up from the couch and blinked.
“Wow. Uh.
Hey, Cindy.”
“I know I should’ve warned you,” she said, kicking off her boots, “but it was a last-minute thing. Jet lag and drama.”
I don’t know why I didn’t say no.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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