“I asked you to stop,” I snapped.
She leaned against the counter.
“And I don’t understand why you care.”
“You don’t have to understand.”
“I asked you to stop.”
“You’re seriously threatened by me wearing a towel?”
“No.”
“Because if you trust Andrew…”
“Kayla…”
She took a sip.
“I’m just saying, this sounds like a husband problem, not a towel problem.”
“No. It’s a you-ignoring-me problem.”
“This sounds like a husband problem.”
That made her smile.
Not a nice smile.
“Honestly? Think of it as a test.”
I stared at her.
“A what?”
“A test.”
She set down her mug.
“If Andrew can be tempted because another woman walks through the kitchen in a towel, wouldn’t you rather know now?”
“Think of it as a test.”
I thought I’d misheard her.
“You’re deliberately trying to tempt my husband?”
“No.” She said it as though I were being ridiculous. “I’m seeing whether he can be tempted.”
“Those are not as different as you think.”
“If he fails, that’s on him.”
“You’re deliberately trying to tempt my husband?”
I folded my arms.
“And if I ask my sister to stop doing something in my home?”
Kayla rolled her eyes.
“You’re making this way bigger than it is.”
Kayla rolled her eyes.
***
That evening, I told Andrew.
He was loading the dishwasher.
For several seconds, the only sound was plates sliding into the rack.
Finally he said, “She actually used the word ‘test’?”
“Twice.”
I told Andrew.
Andrew pushed the lower rack in.
“I’ll stay out of it.”
“Why?”
“She’s your sister.”
At the time, that sounded reasonable.
Three days later, I understood why it wasn’t.
“She’s your sister.”
***
Sunday morning, I was buttering toast when I heard Kayla coming downstairs.
Andrew sat at the table with his coffee.
She appeared in the doorway.
Same towel.
Same bare feet.
Same complete refusal to care that I’d asked her to stop.
She appeared in the doorway.
I put down the knife.
“Kayla…”
Andrew touched my wrist.
“Hang on.”
I looked at him.
He stood and carried his mug to the counter.
“Let me answer this one.”“In what?”
“I left because it was awkward.”
“Whatever experiment you thought you were running. You kept trying to make me a character in an argument with my wife.”
For once, Kayla had no quick answer.
Then she looked at me.
“You told him to say that.”
Kayla had no quick answer.
I shook my head.
“I didn’t even know he was looking at rooms.”
Andrew glanced at me.
“I probably should’ve told you.”
“Yes.”
“I probably should’ve told you.”
“I thought staying out of it meant saying, ‘She’s your sister.’” He rubbed one thumb along the handle of his mug. “Really, I left you enforcing a boundary that affected both of us.”
I looked at him. I hadn’t expected that.
“I left you enforcing a boundary that affected both of us.”
Kayla gave a disbelieving laugh.
“Great. Marriage workshop complete. Can I go get dressed now?”
“Please,” I said.
She turned toward the stairs.
“And Kayla?”
She stopped.
“One of those rooms is open now. The woman showing it is free this afternoon.”
“One of those rooms is open now.”
Kayla swung around.
“You made me an appointment?”
“I found a listing,” Andrew answered.
I picked up his phone and looked at it.
A bright upstairs bedroom. Shared kitchen. Small backyard.
“I found a listing.”
Nothing luxurious.
Nothing awful.
Just a room.
I held the phone toward Kayla.
“We’re going to look at it.”
“I’m not moving there.”
“Then don’t. We’re still looking.”
She frowned.
“You can’t make me.”
“I’m not moving there.”
“You’re right.” I set the phone down. “But if you’re staying here while you figure out your next step, I need to see you taking one.”
Kayla stared at me.
Then she marched upstairs.
A door shut.
“You’re right.”
Andrew took a sip of coffee.
“Think that went well.”
I looked at him.
“Not one word.”
“Understood.”
***
Twenty minutes later, Kayla came downstairs in jeans and a sweatshirt.
She had also found the ugliest old robe in our linen closet and thrown it over one arm.
“Not one word.”
She dropped it onto a chair as she passed.“He said he didn’t want our life anymore.”
The light changed.
I didn’t move until the driver behind me tapped his horn.
Kayla looked out the side window.
“Six years, Amanda. And that was it.”
“He said he didn’t want our life anymore.”
I drove.
No advice.
No defense of Eric.
No attempt to make the sentence less ugly.
Then Kayla said, “I kept waiting to find out what he’d done.”
“And he hadn’t?”
“I kept waiting to find out what he’d done.”
“No.” Her voice dropped. “I just wanted there to be a reason.”
I finally understood why she’d been watching Andrew so closely.
Not because she wanted him.
Because she wanted him to become evidence.
“I just wanted there to be a reason.”
“You wanted to know mine wasn’t different,” I muttered. “If Andrew failed your test, then Eric made sense.”
Kayla looked at me. Then she turned back toward the window.
“Maybe.”
“And if Andrew didn’t?”
She picked at a loose corner of the phone case.
“If Andrew failed your test, then Eric made sense.”
When she answered, her voice was almost too quiet to hear.
“Then maybe it wasn’t relationships.”
I waited.
“Maybe it was just mine.”
I pulled into our driveway and shut off the engine.
Neither of us reached for the doors.
“Then maybe it wasn’t relationships.”
After a minute, Kayla said, “I wasn’t trying to take Andrew from you.” She finally looked at me. “I just needed to know.”
I reached for the door handle, then stopped.
“But being heartbroken explains why you wanted proof.”
Kayla watched me.
“I wasn’t trying to take Andrew from you.”
Read also
“It doesn’t explain why my ‘no’ stopped mattering to you.”
Her hand went still around the phone.
And this time, she didn’t argue.
Inside, Kayla put the ugly robe back on the chair.
“I am sorry,” she said.
I waited.
She didn’t argue.
“Not for being heartbroken. I’m still pretty committed to that.”
She looked at the robe.
“I’m sorry I decided you had to prove your boundary made sense before I’d respect it.”
“Thank you,” I said.“I’m not ready to move tomorrow.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“I’m still pretty committed to that.”
We sat at the kitchen table and gave “temporary” an actual shape.
Kayla would keep applying for jobs. Once she had income, she’d contribute something small. We’d revisit the room listings together and choose a realistic move-out date.
“And no more tests,” I warned.
Andrew walked in carrying groceries.
“And no more tests.”
“That should probably be a universal rule.”
Kayla pointed at him.
“Nobody asked you.”
“He’s allowed to speak in his own kitchen.”
Andrew set the bags down.
“Thank you, Amanda.”
Kayla rolled her eyes, but there was no fight behind it.
“He’s allowed to speak in his own kitchen.”
Then Andrew looked at me.
“And next time something affects both of us, I won’t hide behind ‘she’s your sister.’”
“Good.”
Kayla groaned.
“Are you two going to become emotionally healthy right in front of me?”
“Probably,” Andrew said. “You can move out if it’s unbearable.”
“I won’t hide behind ‘she’s your sister.’”
She threw a dish towel at him.
***
The next morning, I heard the shower before seven.
Andrew was drinking coffee when footsteps came down the stairs.
He glanced at me.
I glanced back.
Kayla entered wearing the ancient blue robe from our linen closet.
Kayla entered wearing the ancient blue robe.
It had faded ducks across the pockets and one sleeve slightly shorter than the other.
She went straight to the coffee maker.
Andrew said nothing.
Neither did I.
Kayla reached toward the bag of coffee beans Andrew ordered online.
“Can I use these?”
Andrew said nothing.
Andrew looked over the top of his mug.
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
That was it.
No announcement.
No apology tour.
Just a question she’d never thought she needed to ask before.
That was it.
Then Kayla opened the high cabinet.
The filters were on the top shelf.
She stretched.
Missed.
Andrew started to stand.
Kayla pointed at him.
“Sit.”
He sat.
Andrew started to stand.
She dragged over a kitchen chair, climbed one step, and grabbed the filters herself.
When she stepped down, she caught me smiling.“What?”
“Nothing.”
She caught me smiling.
Kayla looked at the robe, the chair, then the filters in her hand.
“See?” She nudged the chair back into place. “Back on my feet.”
This time, all three of us laughed.
“Back on my feet.”The coffee filters were on the top shelf, but Kayla kept asking Andrew to reach them whenever she crossed our kitchen in a towel. She called it a test, even after I told her to stop. On Sunday, Andrew set down his coffee, unlocked his phone, and showed her why he’d stopped leaving the room that day.
One morning, after I’d already asked my sister to stop walking through our kitchen in nothing but a towel, she asked my husband to reach the coffee filters for her.
Andrew looked at the cabinet.
Then at Kayla.
Then he picked up his coffee and walked out of the room.
She asked my husband to reach the coffee filters for her.
Kayla watched him go.
“What’s his problem?”
I shut the cabinet she’d left open.
“You’re his problem.”
She laughed.
That was what finally got me.
“What’s his problem?”
***
Two weeks earlier, Kayla had arrived at our door with two suitcases, $287 in her checking account, and mascara dried beneath both eyes.
Her boyfriend of six years had told her to leave their apartment.
I hadn’t asked whether she could afford a hotel.
Kayla had arrived at our door.
I hadn’t told her to call friends first.
I’d taken one suitcase while Andrew took the other.
“Stay here until you get back on your feet,” I’d told her.
Andrew had agreed before I’d even finished the sentence.
I hadn’t told her to call friends first.
For the first week, Kayla was an easy houseguest.
Then came the towel.
The first morning, I assumed she’d forgotten Andrew was downstairs.
The second time, I pulled her aside.
“Could you put on a robe before coming down? Andrew’s usually in the kitchen.”
I assumed she’d forgotten Andrew was downstairs.
Kayla blinked at me.
“He’s your husband, Amanda, not a teenage boy.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“It makes me uncomfortable.”
She studied my face as though I’d presented her with a puzzle.
Then she shrugged.
“Fine.”
Except the next morning, she did it again.
“It makes me uncomfortable.”
***
Now Andrew was upstairs, and Kayla was stirring sugar into her coffee like nothing had happened.
