Putting My Husband’s Pushy Sister in Her Place
“Mom said the venue confirmed the booking,” Rebecca stated, ignoring the tension in Emma’s voice. “And about the money. Did you and James transfer it all?”
Emma paused for a second, choosing her words carefully, but Rebecca continued on.
“The amount is small, really, I even thought about using some of my own, but with all my expenses… This is all for Mom, you understand.”
“Hold on,” Emma interrupted, trying to remain calm. “We didn’t agree on this. James didn’t mention anything to me.”
“Oh, you know how he is, always forgetting things,” Rebecca laughed, as if it was the most normal thing. “I told him it would be about three hundred pounds from you guys. Isn’t that reasonable for an occasion like this?”
Her words sounded as if the decision was already made and any objections were absurd. Emma tightened her grip on the phone, feeling her irritation grow.
“Three hundred pounds?” she asked slowly, almost in a whisper.
“Yes, and that’s after a discount! You’ll see, with the cake and service, Mom will love it. Don’t stress, I’ve already given a deposit. James assured me you’d handle the rest.”
Rebecca hung up before Emma could respond.
Emma sat there, glaring at her phone. Her throat felt tight, and one thought occupied her mind: “Here we go again, living by her rules.”
***
That evening, in the kitchen, the atmosphere felt as tense as a tightly-strung wire. James opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of cider, and mumbled without looking at her, “Becky said you’re against giving money for the venue.”
Emma stopped in her tracks.
“Against? Is that what she said?” She got up from her chair, trying to keep her cool. “Did I refuse? I didn’t know anything until she called, updating me on her decisions.”
James turned around, frowning.
“Come on, it’s not like she’s doing it for herself. It’s not every year Mom celebrates a big birthday.”
“And it’s totally fine to make plans on our dime? Three hundred, James!” Emma restrained herself from shouting. “Three hundred pounds! Does that sound reasonable?”
James shrugged and looked away.
“Well, it’s for Mom. What do you expect? Becky did a great job organizing everything.”
Emma let out a sarcastic chuckle.
“Of course, it’s easy to shine on someone else’s money. You know, James, I don’t get why you just went along. Did we discuss this? No. She decided, and you nodded.”
“Just stop it already.” James waved his hand and grabbed a glass. “She’s just trying to do her best.”
“For who? For us? For Mom? Or for herself?” Emma’s voice shot up before she quickly calmed it down so as not to wake their son. “James, I can’t keep doing this. It’s always, ‘give, transfer, pay,’ then she disappears as if nothing happened.”
He stood there silently, staring into his glass.
“What do you expect me to do? That’s just the way she is. Want to talk to her yourself?”
“Already did,” Emma replied curtly. “And do you know what she told me? It’s our duty.”
“And what did you expect? She carries a lot on her shoulders. Maybe her life is harder than ours.”
“She carries?!” Emma lost her patience. “James, she’s just using everyone around her. And you’re playing along!”
The conversation reached a dead end. James shrugged, muttered something incoherent, and left the room, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts.
***
The next morning began with an unexpected call. Emma reluctantly picked up.
“Emma, hi! Are you busy?” Rebecca sounded surprisingly upbeat.
“I’m listening,” Emma responded dryly, preparing for another request.
“Listen, I could use some help. I’ve started a little project with a neighbor—a small online shop, you know how the opportunities are these days. Well, I need to pay for something, and I’m totally out of cash. I thought maybe you could lend me your card just for a couple of days.”
Emma froze momentarily, digesting what she’d heard.
“Becky,” her voice turned firm, “are you serious? My card?”
“Yeah! What’s the big deal? You know I handle things carefully. I’ll track everything, return it all, and won’t spend a penny more.”
“No. That’s not happening.”
Silence lingered on the other end.
“I don’t get it,” Rebecca’s voice lost its earlier confidence. “It’s just a card. Why are you refusing?”
“Because my peace of mind matters to me, Becky. As does my card.”
“Emma, don’t you trust me?” Rebecca tried sounding indignant, though it seemed more like another tactic. “We’re family.”
Emma bit her tongue, resisting the urge for a knee-jerk reaction.
“Let’s end this here, Becky. I have things to do.”
She hung up, feeling a mix of relief and anger. Rebecca had crossed too many lines.
That evening, when James returned from work, Emma knew the conversation wouldn’t be easy.
“James,” she began calmly, “your sister called again.”
He took off his shoes, deliberately avoiding eye contact.
“And?”
“She asked for my card. For one of her projects.”
James stopped, looking at her in surprise.
“What did you say?”
“Of course, I said no.”
“Why couldn’t you just help? It’s Becky.”
Emma took a deep breath, trying to remain composed.
“Is it a family trait of yours to not see the difference between a request and nerve? Can’t she manage on her own?”
“Emma, it’s not like she asked for thousands. You’re always overcomplicating things.”
She looked at him, stunned.
“Overcomplicating? Me? Do you really think this can go on forever?”
James fell silent, then murmured, “She just needed some help, that’s all.”
“Sure, and then she disappears, and we’re left to clear up the mess.”
He waved dismissively and retreated to the other room.
Emma sat at the kitchen table, feeling something inside her finally snap. She couldn’t take it anymore. Rebecca wasn’t just interfering in their life—she was tearing it apart.
All evening, Emma pondered how to put an end to this. A plan formed in her mind, calm, rational, and most importantly, final.
***
The following week, they were invited to a family gathering at James’s relatives. Almost everyone was there: grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins. As usual, Rebecca was the center of attention, loudly sharing how she was “investing in the future.” Emma watched this performance with a calm, almost detached expression.
James sat tensely next to her, sensing something unpleasant was brewing.
“So,” Rebecca continued, addressing everyone, “we’re launching this fantastic project with my neighbor. We’re doing it all ourselves, and believe me, it’s challenging these days.”
Emma cleared her throat to gain attention.
“Becky, isn’t it true that for your project you try to use other people’s money?”
Everyone around the table stilled. Rebecca didn’t immediately realize the comment was aimed at her.
“What do you mean?” Her voice sounded strained.
“You asked for my card for ‘temporary expenses.’ And before that, James gave you money for car repairs. Did you return that money, by the way?”
Rebecca blushed.
“Those are just trivial things. Why bring them up here?”
Emma held her ground.
“It’s not trivial when you consistently try to live at others’ expense.”
“I can’t see why you’re so angry,” Rebecca forced a smile, looking uneasy. “We’re family, after all.”
“Family?” Emma quirked an eyebrow. “This isn’t family, Becky. What kind of family takes and never gives back, then sulks when they’re refused?”
Silence enveloped the room. James attempted to say something, but Emma stopped him.
“No, James. Stop covering for her. We’ve spent enough money and sanity on her. Now she can explain why she wanted my card.”
Rebecca stood up abruptly, clenching her fists.
“You’re just jealous, Emma! I’m doing this for everyone, and all you do is nitpick.”
“Jealous?” Emma chuckled. “Of what? Your habit of deceiving everyone around you? Don’t make me laugh.”
Rebecca slammed her hand on the table and stormed out of the room.
James rose, looking at Emma with hurt in his eyes.
“Why did you do that? She’s still my sister.”
“And why do you let her get away with everything?” Emma replied, meeting his gaze.
He didn’t respond, just shook his head and followed Rebecca out.
Emma realized she had achieved what she wanted: the truth was out. But it felt more like a defeat than a victory. The others remained silent, avoiding her gaze.
Later that evening, James did not come home. He sent a short message: “I need time to think things over.”
Emma sat on the sofa, knowing she did the right thing, but something inside her refused to acknowledge it as a win.
