Oh man, listen to this messits like something out of a telly drama. So, get this: my mums guilt-tripping me because I want my pregnant cousin out of *my* flat. Yeah, the one they *gave* me, or so I thought.
Its my flat! I snap into the phone, leaning against the kitchen counter. Mums on the other end, all wounded and accusatory. Classic hereven when shes asking for a favour, she makes *me* feel like the villain.
You dont get it, do you? This is *family* were talking about! How can you toss your own niece out? Shes pregnant, for heavens sakewheres she supposed to go?
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Mum, I *have* helped. For eight *months*. Remember when Auntie Val said itd be two weeks, tops, just till she finds a job?
The job markets brutal right now!
Shes not even *looking*! My temper flares. Yesterday? Spent all day mixing hair masks in my bathroom, binge-watching telly, then
Shes *pregnant*, Mum cuts in, like that explains everything.
She found out a month ago! What about the seven months before that?
Silence. Then the *big sigh*the one that screams, *I raised a heartless monster*.
Mum, its *my* flat. You and Dad bought out Auntie Vals share for me, yeah?
Her tone goes icy. Technically, its *family* property. We just let you live there.
I close my eyes. Here we go again.
I thought it was a gift. For uni.
Of course! But you know how family works
How *does* it work? I snap. Letting Amelia eat my food, steal my clothes, and have her deadbeat boyfriend over when Im not here? Oh, and guess what*hes* the dad, by the way.
Eliza! Mum gasps, scandalised. Your Auntie Val did *so much* for us! When Dad was ill, who helped? Who babysat you when I worked doubles?
Yeah, yeah. The eternal *debt* to Auntie Val.
Im grateful, but that doesnt mean I owe Amelia free reign over my life!
Mum drops the bomb: Your aunt rang me in *tears*. Says youre bullying Amelia over trivial things.
I bark a laugh. Trivial? She nicked my new jumper, stained it with juice, and went, You dont mind, were *family*no apology, nothing!
Its just a *jumper*
Its *not* about the jumper! Its respect. Boundaries. Coming home and feeling like a *guest* in my own place.
Silence. Then Mum goes soft: Gran wouldve been *so* disappointed. Family was everything to her.
Stop dragging Gran into this!
The phone buzzesAuntie Val, right on cue.
Mum, its her. Probably calling to tell me what a rubbish cousin I am.
Answer it. Be *reasonable*.
I exhale. Fine. Ill call you back.
I brace myself. Hi, Auntie Val.
Sweetheart! Her voice is sickly sweet. Hows my sunshine?
*Sunshine*. Ugh. That nickname *never* ends well.
Amelias apparently told her about our misunderstandings. *Misunderstandings*. Right.
Auntie, you said *two weeks*. A month, max.
Youre tallying like an accountant! Family doesnt *do* that.
What *does* family do, then? Steal? Throw parties in my flat?
Amelias just *sociable*
Shes *spoilt*. Mum and Dad *bought* your share. It was *my* gift.
Her tone freezes. Not exactly. Its *family* inheritance. Your mum and I agreed
You sold your share. At market rate.
Always *money* with you! she shrieks. What about Amelias *baby*? Wherell she go?
Shes got a *boyfriend*. The *father*.
Hes *useless*! Left Manchester when he found out.
*Gee, wonder why*, I think.
Youve got a three-bed. Why cant *you* take her?
Silence.
Uncle Clive works from home, she mutters. Besides, you two get on *so* well! Itd be good practice for *you*motherhood!
*Get on?* Ive been Amelias doormat since primary school.
Shes got a month to leave.
Auntie gasps. Youll *stress* her into a miscarriage!
Classic guilt-trip.
The front door slams. Amelia waltzes in, freshly manicured, designer jeans, zero stress.
Eliza! Guess who I saw? Clara from schoolmarried some tech bloke. Her *ring*ugh, *dying*!
I grit my teeth. We need to talk.
Not now, yeah? She flaps a hand. Headache. *Hormones*.
Amelia. Youre *leaving*.
Her jaw drops. *What*?
One month. Find somewhere.
Youre *joking*? This is *our* inheritance! Ive got as much right as you!
No. My parents *bought* it.
She sneers. Ill call Mum!
She already did.
Amelia storms out, screeching about how Ill regret this.
Mum texts: *Your aunts devastated. What have you done?*
I dont reply. I google: *Flats to rent, Brighton*.
Fast-forward three months. Im sipping coffee with Theo, my bloke from London.
Any regrets? he asks.
Only that I didnt kick her out sooner.
Dad rings. We sold the flat.
Grans place? But
Amelia moved in with her parents. He chuckles. After you left, she tried squatting, but wed had enough. The moneys *yours*.
Tears prick my eyes. Mine?
Always was. Sorry we didnt back you sooner.
Theo squeezes my hand. Alright?
I watch snow dust Brightons rooftops. I think I just grew up. *Properly*.
The past melts away. For the first time, *I* decide who gets a keyto my home, and my life.
