I still recall that summer in a modest cottage just outside York, when the tension between my sisterinlaw Blythe and me came to a head over a simple piece of clothing.
Blythe, Im afraid theres nothing I can do for you, I said, trying to keep my voice steady. The words felt like a stone dropped into water, stirring an irritation that had been bubbling beneath my skin. Blythe stood in the sitting room, shifting from foot to foot, her face a mask of plaintive disappointment.
How can you say that? she wailed, tears streaming down her cheeks. I have a crucial interview tomorrowmy most important one yet! And I have nothing suitable to wear!
I sighed wearily. Blythe had a knack for pulling at heartstrings at just the right moment.
You have a whole wardrobe, mind you, I remarked dryly.
But none of it fits the bill! she sniffed, dabbing her nose with the cuff of her shirt. I need to look serious and elegant, not like a schoolgirl in old jeans and tees!
Blythes sobs grew louder, her voice trembling as if she were truly at the brink of despair. She pressed her hands to her chest as if in prayer.
If I dont get that job Ill be left penniless. Its a brilliant offer and I wont find anything else as good again, she muttered.
At that moment Michael, my husband, entered the room, having heard the commotion.
Blythe, whats happened? he asked, noticing his sisters distress.
My brother is about to have an interview tomorrow and you refuse to lend me any clothes! What a miser you are! she snapped, turning to Michael.
Michael frowned, looking between us with a puzzled expression.
Victoria, were not strangers. Isnt it a bit much to be so stingy? he pressed.
Its my personal property, I began, but he cut me off. Whats the matter? My sister asks for help in a tight spot, and you act like a miser.
Blythe wiped away another tear, her eyes pleading, Please, please, Ill be careful. I wont ruin anything. I swear Ill return everything in perfect condition.
Michael nodded, supporting his sister. Of course shell bring it back. Its just clothes, after all.
Seeing the futility of resisting, I finally relented.
Fine, take whatever you need, I said through clenched teeth, heading toward the bedroom.
Standing before the wardrobe, my hand reached for the darkblue trouser suit Id bought for special occasions and barely worn.
Here you go, I handed the suit to Blythe, who clutched it like a treasure.
She pressed the fabric to her face, eyes shining. Its gorgeous! Thank you ever so much. Ill feel like a queen perhaps even a Diana.
But a moment later her tone shifted. What about shoes? The suit needs proper shoes.
I I cant give you my shoes, I protested.
And some jewellery would help, too, she continued, ignoring my protests. And a handbagsomething elegant, otherwise the whole look falls apart.
My sisterinlaw is right, Michael chimed in. You cant turn up for an interview in trainers.
My temper flared; Blythes audacity seemed boundless, and Michael stood by her.
Very well, I sighed, returning to the bedroom.
From the shoe compartment I pulled a pair of black pumps with a modest heel, then opened a small box to select a set of simple pearl earrings. I also fetched a petite black leather clutch from the hall.
Here, thats everything you need. I suppose youll manage to find some undergarments? I added with a hint of sarcasm.
Thank you, youre a lifesaver! Blythe clapped her hands, the sarcasm slipping past her. Ill return everything in perfect shape, I promise!
She gathered the items in a hurried bundle and fled the house, as if fearing I might change my mind.
From the doorway she called, Thanks again! and disappeared down the lane.
Michael wrapped an arm around my shoulders. See how happy she looks? Why were you so reluctant to help? What could happen to your suit? She wont eat it.
I just dont like sharing personal things with strangers, I replied honestly.
Strangers? Shes my own sister, Michael retorted. Not some girl off the street.
For me shes a stranger, and you know that well, I said, shaking my head as he muttered something about womens meddlesomeness.
A full week passed. I thought of calling Blythe a few times, but kept putting it off. Finally my patience snapped.
Hello, Blythe? When will you bring my things back? I demanded.
A disgruntled sigh answered from the other end.
Um hi, Vic. Theres been an unfortunate incident, she stammered.
What kind of incident? I asked, wary.
Well I accidentally spilled coffee on the suit. Theres a stain now. I tried to clean it, but nothing works, she confessed. And the clutch was stolen right off my hands on the high street! The shoesone heel snapped when I chased the thief! The earrings Ill return them later, okay?
My disbelief was instant. How could every single item have fallen into disrepair at once?
Blythe, are you joking? This sounds like a prank, I snapped.
Im sorry, Vic, Ive got an urgent call! Lets talk later, she cut me off and hung up.
I stared at the phone, unable to fathom the lie. Blythes fabrications seemed endless, yet I could not prove otherwise.
A month later Blythe returned, looking even more dishevelled.
Victoria, help me! I have a corporate event and nothing to wear! she implored.
Youre as cheap as chips, I replied coldly. Do you still have the nerve to ask after what happened last time? I wont give you anything.
Please, I promise Ill be careful this time! she begged.
No more, and shut the door, I snapped, slamming it shut in her face.
That evening Michael came home, his mood sour.
What have you done? he shouted, slamming his hand on my shoulder. Blythe called, she was sobbing! How could you treat her like that?
I could have, I replied calmly. Im done lending her my things.
Youre feeling sorry for a few pieces of clothing? She asked for help! he retorted.
My sister ruined my expensive suit and the rest of my things! I shot back.
Well buy you a new one! he said.
On your salary? I asked, sarcasm dripping. His face flushed with embarrassment.
He tried to defend himself, Youre just jealous. Blythes young, pretty your clothes look better on her!
Ah, so thats how you speak of her! Go to your dear sister, if she means more to you than your wife! I snapped, and we argued well into the night, but I held my ground.
A few days later I came home early from work, and the sight that met me in the bedroom made my blood run cold. The wardrobe doors were flung open, clothes strewn across the bed, hangers tangled in a chaotic heap.
Trembling, I gathered the items, only to discover that my favourite burgundy evening dress, a new pair of black pumps, a set of gold sapphire earrings, and a little pearlclasped clutch were missing.
I dialed Michaels number at once.
Mike, whats happened? Did you wreck our wardrobe? Where are my things? I yelled.
Oh, Blythe was here, he said evenly. I let her take whatever she wanted. Shell bring it back tomorrow.
Youre out of your mind! I shrieked. She refused to share! Now you let her take everything yourself?
I only let her have what she liked. Shell return it all tomorrow, he replied.
I slammed the phone down, grabbed my car keys, and drove to Blythes house faster than I ever had before.
When she opened the door, her eyes widened.
Vic she began.
Where are my things? I hissed through clenched teeth.
What things? I didnt take anything, she replied, feigning innocence.
I pushed past her and entered the bedroom. On the wardrobes rod hung the very ruined suit, pristine as ever. Beside it lay the broken shoes, still intact, and the stolen clutch rested on the shelf. The rest of my belongings were there, untouched.
Youve been lying! I whispered, the realization hitting like a blow. Nothing was damaged or lost!
Blythe lunged for the door, but I blocked her.
Stop! Explain why you lied! I demanded.
I I didnt want to give them back. I liked them too much, she stammered.
Youre a brazen thief! I exploded, pulling my things from her wardrobe.
Dont insult me! she shouted. Im not a thief; I owe you nothing!
You owe me everything! If you ever try to touch my things again, youll have me and your brother to answer to, I warned, hoisting the bag full of my possessions.
Ill thank you for not calling the police right now, she sneered, her voice trembling.
Michael was waiting in the hallway, looking helpless.
Vic, Blythe called, she was crying says you threatened her, he said.
I threatened her? She stole from me and lied about ruined items! I retorted, setting the suit on the floor. Lookno stain, no broken heel.
Michael stared at the undamaged items, silence falling over him.
Michael, let this be the last time we have to deal with your sisters whims. Either I stay, or I walk out. Choose what matters more: our marriage or this childish caprice, I said, my voice firm as a stone.
His face turned ashen. I I didnt know she was lying, I swear, he muttered.
Now you do. And remember: no one touches my belongings without my permission. They are mine, not communal property for your relatives.
He nodded, eyes fixed on the floor. I no longer cared about Blythes hurt feelings; she could buy her own clothes with her own money. The memory of that summer remains a stark reminder of how far a simple request for a suit can spiral when pride and selfishness rule the heart.
