PART 2: Sunday at Five
For several moments, nobody spoke.
Natalie was the first to respond.
“Paige doesn’t really understand grown-up discussions.”
Paige looked hurt.
“Yes, I do.”
“Please go downstairs.”
“But—”
“Right now.”
The little girl hurried off.
I waited until I could no longer hear her footsteps.
Then I turned to Natalie.
“Who exactly is Mr. Clay?”
She picked up her laundry basket.
“This whole conversation is absurd.”
Daniel moved closer to his sister.
“Natalie.”
His tone had finally turned serious.
Maybe because he now understood that he hadn’t been told the whole truth either.
“Who is Mr. Clay?”
Natalie looked straight at him.
Then she set the basket down again.
“Someone I know through work.”
“And he’s currently living in your apartment?”
“Only temporarily.”
A strange calm came over me.
“The same apartment you said was uninhabitable because of emergency plumbing problems?”
Natalie looked away, irritated.
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Please stop using that explanation.”
She spun toward me.
“You don’t understand what I’ve been dealing with.”
“That’s true. Because apparently the information you’ve shared with us hasn’t been accurate.”
Daniel looked deeply troubled.
“How long has this man stayed there?”
Natalie crossed her arms.
“Roughly a month.”
I gave a short, incredulous laugh.
“So he’s been there almost the entire time you’ve stayed with us.”
“He needed a place near his workplace.”
“And you found somewhere that costs you nothing.”
“That’s not the whole story.”
“Then please explain the whole story.”
She paused.
Eventually, she admitted, “Brookhaven raised my monthly rent when I renewed my lease.”
I waited patiently.
“And then?”
“I discovered I could rent it to someone else for a higher amount.”
Daniel stared at his sister.
“How much higher?”
Natalie pressed her lips together.
“Eight hundred dollars.”
That number shocked me more than I expected.
She was getting an extra eight hundred dollars every month while living in our home and contributing nothing to our expenses.
I remembered every grocery receipt.
Our higher water bill.
The takeout pizzas Daniel bought whenever I was too tired to cook for six people.
The school snacks I bought for Paige and Connor.
The extra laundry supplies.
The gas I used driving Natalie’s children to their activities whenever she said she felt “overwhelmed.”
“You’re earning money from this arrangement,” I said.
Natalie disagreed immediately.
“It’s not earnings. I still have bills.”
“Someone is paying more than your rent while we’re providing your accommodation.”
“I never told you to purchase groceries.”
I simply looked at her.
For forty days, she had eaten our food.
So had her children.
But technically, she was right.
She had never directly asked for anything. She had simply helped herself to whatever was there.
Apparently, that difference mattered to her.
Daniel looked at his sister as if he barely recognized her.
“You told me you were facing homelessness.”
“I could have been.”
“But you already had an apartment.”
“I was struggling to afford it.”
“Those are two completely different situations!”
Natalie’s expression turned colder.
“You wouldn’t understand my circumstances.”
“I even made room for you in my son’s bedroom!”
Connor had technically been sharing Ethan’s room, but I chose not to correct him.
Daniel kept going.
“I explained to my wife that you desperately needed help. I asked her to adjust our lives because you needed your family.”
“But I am your family.”
“That doesn’t make dishonesty acceptable.”
Natalie turned to me.
And then, remarkably, she smiled.
It wasn’t a friendly smile.
It was a faint, resentful one, the kind people give when they no longer feel the need to keep up appearances.
“Oh, come on.”
Daniel went quiet.
Natalie gestured toward me.
“She wanted me to leave after the second week.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“I asked when your new apartment would become available.”
“You wouldn’t stop mentioning it.”
“Because you were staying in our home.”
“And there it is again. Your home.”
“My name appears on the mortgage.”
“Daniel’s name is there too.”
“That’s correct.”
I nodded slowly.
“And Natalie’s name isn’t on it.”
Daniel briefly shut his eyes.
Natalie shook her head dismissively.
“This is precisely why I discussed everything with him privately.”
I looked at her steadily.
“You spoke with him privately because you already knew I’d refuse.”
“Because you insist on controlling everything.”
I almost answered right away.
But then I stopped.
Forty days earlier, I probably would have defended my intentions.
I might have listed everything I’d done to help. I might have tried to convince her that I was a caring person.
But in that moment, something finally became clear.
Natalie wanted the conversation to be about whether I was being kind.
Because while we argued over my character, nobody would look at her choices.
So I calmly replied, “Sunday at five.”
Her expression shifted.
“Excuse me?”
“You need to move out by five o’clock on Sunday.”
“You can’t leave children without somewhere to stay.”
“You already have an apartment.”
“Someone else is staying there.”
“Then contact him.”
“He’s paid through the end of December.”
Daniel turned to her.
“You promised him the apartment until December?”
“Yes.”
Then his eyes moved to me.
The truth was impossible to miss.
Natalie hadn’t asked to stay until Christmas because her apartment repairs might drag on that long.
She needed a place to live until Christmas because she had already arranged for someone else to occupy her apartment through December.
And she had set it all up before bringing her family into our home.
Daniel sank onto the stairs.
“You arranged this beforehand.”
Natalie suddenly seemed less sure of herself.
“No.”
“You rented your apartment to someone else first.”
She said nothing.
“You knew all along, before arriving here.”
“I was trying to improve my financial situation.”
“At our expense?”
Tears filled her eyes.
Before, that might have changed his mind.
But not anymore.
“Daniel, I’m raising my children alone.”
Daniel’s expression didn’t change.
“I understand.”
“You both earn money.”
“So?”
“And you’ve got plenty of room.”
I watched Daniel’s reaction.
For years, Natalie had known exactly how to influence her older brother.
Family. Children. Single motherhood. Financial hardship.
Having more than others.
She could make almost any reasonable limit sound unkind.
Usually, Daniel gave in.
This time, he held firm.
“Laura already asked you something.”
Natalie looked at him.
“What?”
“Sunday, five o’clock.”
She stared in disbelief.
“You’re taking her side?”
Daniel got to his feet.
“She’s my wife.”
“But I’m your sister!”
“And you weren’t honest with me.”
Her eyes moved between us.
Then her frustration broke through.
At first, she didn’t raise her voice.
Her tone simply turned distant.
“Fine.”
She picked up her laundry basket.
“If you want us to leave, we’ll go tonight.”
Daniel gave a small nod.
“All right.”
Clearly, she hadn’t expected that answer.
She blinked in surprise.
“What?”
“If you can find a safe place tonight, that’s fine.”
