Confession
It was last New Years Eve when my sister-in-law showed up completely unannounced and from then on, the festivities went quite downhill.
She stood on the doorstep clutching a suitcase, wearing a bright grin, as if she was doing me a grand favour.
I hope you dont mind if I see in the New Year at yours?
It was pitch dark outside, her taxi was already disappearing down the road, and saying no would have painted me as the ultimate villain. And so, it began.
My hand froze on the door handle, my thoughts clouded by a single certainty: Well, here it is. Its starting.
Come in I said, forcing a smile and moving aside.
Amy breezed past me, brushing snow from her coat, taking in our flat with a lingering, appraising look the sort one gives a hotel room theyre intent on moving into.
Oh, youre already setting the table! Wheres my brother then?
In the shower.
Of course, having a rest. Right, Ill just get changed. Where shall I sleep?
I pointed towards our cramped little study. Wed been renting this place for a few years, saving nervously for our own home. Nothing special but it was ours.
She vanished to get settled in, while I went back to the kitchen. My original plan for New Years Eve was an intimate one: just the two of us, films, and home-cooked food. Id even prepared the salads he liked best.
All of it, dashed.
My husband came out of the bathroom at once sensing something was off.
Whats happened?
We have a guest.
What guest?
Your sister.
His face turned pale.
But we didnt invite her
Exactly.
He tried to hug me, but I pulled away. He insisted it was just a surprise, nothing nasty intended, that shed only be here for a couple of days.
But Id seen the suitcase. The big one.
By the time she re-emerged, Amy had already made herself comfortable. She plonked herself on the sofa, rummaged through the fridge, and eyed up the food.
During dinner, she filled every silence with talk of her job, her colleagues, and who was supposedly tight-fisted. She also happened to drop a hint about what present her brother might be getting her for New Year and made an offhand mention about needing some cash.
I kept quiet. All the while, anger was bubbling inside.
I remembered all those times during the year when shed borrowed money. Never once returning a penny. Each time, there was an excuse about family issues.
It was getting late when she suggested we invite more people over, since just the three of us is a bit boring.
This is our flat, and our holiday, I finally said.
Oh so Im just in the way then, am I?
No, she wasnt in the way.
But she wasnt the host, either.
There was an argument. She went off to the study, shutting the door with a flourish. My husband told me I was being too sharp.
Shortly before midnight, the three of us sat at the table together. The fairy lights were glowing; the clock ticked away the seconds. When it hit twelve, my husband lifted his glass.
I said, softly but firmly,
To those who never ask, but only ever take.
It fell very quiet.
I looked at Amy and, for the first time, didnt look away.
You never ask. You just arrive, take over our house, our money, our time, our plans. And you expect us to be grateful.
She stood up, her face ashen.
I see. So Im not wanted.
Youre wanted, when youre respectful. Not when you impose.
Not long after, she picked up her suitcase and left. The door clicked shut behind her.
My husband sat down, cradled his head in his hands.
Shes my sister
And Im your wife, I said calmly. And Im done keeping quiet.
The next day, there were no messages. No apologies. Only silence.
The New Year wasnt what Id hoped for.
But for the first time, I didnt feel small. I didnt feel guilty.
Sometimes, a celebration isnt just about whos at the table.
Sometimes, its about finally speaking the truth, even if its uncomfortable.
Thats what I learned. And if I had to, Id do it all over again.
