My Sister Kept Walking Around My Husband in Just a Towel and Called It a ‘Test’ – Then One Day, He Did Something That Made Her Turn Bright Red
“I’m giving us a plan.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“It isn’t.”
Then she turned on Andrew.
“And you’ve been acting like I’m some kind of predator all week.”
Andrew picked up his coffee.
“No.”
“You literally leave whenever I come into the room.”
“The first time, I left because it was awkward.”
He paused.
“After Amanda asked you to stop, I left because I wasn’t participating anymore.”
“Participating in what?”
“Whatever experiment you thought you were running.”
His voice stayed calm.
“You kept trying to turn me into a character in an argument with my wife.”
For once, Kayla had nothing clever to say.
Then she looked at me.
“You told him to say that.”
“I didn’t even know he was looking at rooms.”
Andrew glanced at me.
“I probably should’ve told you.”
“Yes.”
“I thought staying out of it meant saying, ‘She’s your sister.’”
He rubbed his thumb along his coffee mug.
“But really, I left you alone to enforce a boundary that affected both of us.”
That surprised me.
Kayla gave a bitter laugh.
“Wonderful. Marriage workshop complete. Can I go get dressed?”
“Please.”
She turned toward the stairs.
“And Kayla?”
She stopped.
Andrew gestured toward his phone.
“One of those rooms is available now. The woman showing it is free this afternoon.”
Kayla swung around.
“You made me an appointment?”
“No. I found a listing.”
I picked up Andrew’s phone.
The room looked ordinary.
Bright upstairs bedroom.
Shared kitchen.
Small backyard.
Nothing luxurious.
Nothing terrible.
Just a room.
“We’re going to look at it.”
“I’m not moving there.”
“Then don’t. We’re still looking.”
“You can’t make me.”
“You’re right.”
I set down the phone.
“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 marched upstairs.
A door slammed.
Andrew took a slow sip of coffee.
“I think that went well.”
I looked at him.
“Not one word.”
“Understood.”
Twenty minutes later, Kayla came downstairs wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.
She was also carrying the ugliest old robe from our linen closet.
Faded blue.
Ducks on the pockets.
One sleeve slightly shorter than the other.
She dropped it onto a chair.
“Happy?”
I looked at it.
“Thrilled.”
That afternoon, Kayla and I went to see the room.
It belonged to a woman named Renee.
She was around Kayla’s age and worked from home several days a week.
The house was small but clean.
Kayla inspected the bedroom.
Then inspected it again.
The second time, she opened the closet and stood there longer than necessary.
Renee showed us the kitchen.
“I don’t care if you cook late. Just clean up afterward. Quiet after eleven on weekdays. We split paper products.”
Kayla nodded.
Then Renee asked:
“Anything you need from someone you live with?”
Kayla looked surprised.
“Me?”
“Yeah. Anything that drives you crazy?”
Kayla thought about it.
“Don’t borrow my clothes without asking.”
“Okay.”
Renee started toward the laundry room.
Kayla stayed where she was.
“That’s it?”
Renee looked back.
“What?”
“You don’t want to know why?”
Renee shrugged.
“They’re your clothes. Seems reasonable.”
Then she continued walking.
Kayla didn’t.
She stood there staring at the closet.
And I realized something.
