Felicity wanted to celebrate her milestone birthday at our place and demanded we clear the flat.
“Katie, has Tristan spoken to you yet?” my mother-in-law began. “Listen! Therell be up to twenty guests, so well start cooking the evening before. Ill come round earlyabout six.”
“Six in the evening?” Katie asked skeptically. “No, I never agreed to that.”
“Just waitI havent finished. Ive already sent Tristan the shopping list, and hes promised to get everything.”
Tristan always helped his older sister, Sophia. By thirty, shed been married and divorced twicealways the mans fault, of course. Their mum, Margaret, had drilled it into him since childhood:
“Your sister needs you.”
So Tristan helpedwhether it was money when Sophia was “temporarily” between jobs, fixing up her rented flat, or hauling her things after yet another breakup.
Then he got married.
At first, Katie tolerated it. But when Sophia asked to borrow their car for the fifth time that yearjust for “a couple of days”because hers had “broken down again,” Katie put her foot down.
“Tristan, enough. We need the car this weekend. I thought we had plans?”
“Whats so important? Cant you walk?”
“No. My parents cottage isnt exactly walking distance. Theyve got two buckets of cucumbers for us. I thought you heard me mention it.”
“Yeah vaguely. But you knowSophias in a bind.”
“Again? What kind of bind?”
“Not sure,” Tristan hedged, “but she really needs it.”
“No, Tristan. Not this time. Either you say no, or you buy me my own car. Im sick of taking the bus when my husband could drive me.”
For the first time, Tristan hesitated. He was about to call Sophia and refuse when Margaret stepped in.
“Are you seriously ditching your sister for your wife? Shes got no one else but you!”
So Tristan caved, despite the rows. Once, they didnt speak for days. Finally, he snapped.
“Why the silent treatment? Are you sulking?”
“Really? It took you three days to notice?” Katie scoffed.
“I just dont get why youre mad!”
Katie laughed in disbelief.
“Seriously? Your sister commandeered you all weekend because she needed a lift to her friends country place. I thought you were just dropping her offnext thing, youre gone for two days. Nothing about that bothers you?”
“Whats the big deal? We had a few drinks. Her ex was there, and we got on fine. Had to mark the occasion. Was I meant to just leave like an idiot? Thatd be rude.”
“You couldve called.”
“You couldve too,” Tristan shot back.
“I did! Your phone was off. What was I supposed to think? I was worried sick, and you were off having a jolly.”
“Dont exaggerate,” he muttered, waving his ringing phone dismissively.
Tristan stepped onto the balcony before answering. He knew Katie wouldnt appreciate another chat with Sophia.
“Hi, little bro!” Sophia chirped. “My big Three-Zero is in two weeks! You get what Im saying, yeah?”
Tristan glanced warily at Katie, who was ladling soup.
“So what do you want?” he asked.
“You always read my mind!” Sophia giggled. “I want to celebrate at yours! Youve got that big living room. My rented place is tiny, and the landladys a nightmare. Restaurants cost a fortune.”
“What about a café? Ill chip in.”
“Are you mad? Its my thirtieth! You expect me to pay for a venue when youve got a flat? And youll be chipping in anywayIm not made of money.”
“Let me talk to Katie first. Its her home tooshe might have plans.”
“Too late!” Sophia cut in. “Ive already told everyone its at yours. Clear the flat for the day, yeah? Mum says shell handle the cooking.”
Tristan sighed, rubbing his face. As he scrambled for an excuse, his phone buzzeda text from Margaret.
*Sophias finalised the menu. Heres the shopping list. Tell Katie to help prep. And shed better pitch in with the cooking.*
Meanwhile, Katie, oblivious to the impending celebration, settled into her armchair with her phone, ready to watch her favourite show. When Tristan shuffled in, eyes down, she knew instantly.
“What now?” she asked calmly, pausing the show.
“Katie, love Sophias turning thirty. Big milestone. She wants to celebrate.”
Katie tilted her head.
“So let her. Whos stopping her?”
Tristan scratched his neck.
“Thing is she wants to do it here.”
“What? In our flat?” Katie stood.
“Just for one evening. Says restaurants are pricey, and her place is too small”
“And you agreed?”
“I said Id check with you! But Sophias already invited everyone. Mums planning the menu”
Katie closed her eyes, inhaling sharply.
“Tristan. Are you actually an adult, or just Sophias errand boy?”
“Dont start”
“*Im* starting?” She waved her phone. “No one even asked me! This is *my* home, not your familys party venue. Sophia wants a freebie, Im expected to play sous-chef for your mumand I dont get a say?”
Her phone rang.
“Ah, the cherry on top,” she hissed. “Your mother.” She thrust the phone at him.
“Katie, has Tristan told you?” Margaret rattled on. “Twenty guests! Well start prepping the night before. Ill be over by six.”
“Six? *Evening?*” Katies voice dripped skepticism. “No, that wasnt the deal.”
“Hold ontheres more. Tristans got the shopping list. Hell buy everything.”
“Suppose he does,” Katie said flatly. “Wheres the money coming from?”
“Tristans covering it,” Margaret said breezily.
“So let me get this straight. You want to turn my flat into a restaurant, and *were* footing the bill?”
“Sophias family! Cant you help for one day? Chop some veg, make a few sandwichesyoure the lady of the house!”
“Margaret,” Katie cut in, “I just found out about this. I never agreed to host Sophias party.”
“Enough with the my flat nonsense! Youre marriedwhats yours is his!”
“Oh, please. If this were Tristans flat, youd never say that. Id just be the freeloader.”
“Dont be absurd. Shoppings done by Friday. End of discussion.” The line went dead.
“What was *that*?” Katie asked, hearing the dial tone.
“Stop playing the victim!” Tristan finally snapped. “Youve been told youre wrong. Admit it and drop the attitude.”
Katie stared. Then she walked to the wardrobe, pulled out a duffel bag, and began packing his clothes in silence.
Tristan, convinced hed won, grabbed a beer and flopped in front of the telly. He assumed Katie would “cool off” and life would go on.
Half an hour later, she stood in the hallway, his packed bag at her feet.
“Whats this? Some kind of performance?” he grumbled.
“No performance, Tristan. This is over. Im done being invisible in my own life, a maid in my own home, a backdrop for your familys demands. If you want to be the perfect son and brother, fine. Go back to Mummy. Prep for the party. Im sure shell *love* having you camp in her lounge.”
“Youre serious? Im not coming back.”
“Dead serious,” Katie nodded. “I dont *want* you back. Ive tolerated this so long, Ive lost respect for myself. If three years havent taught you to respect me, nothing will.”
“Katieyou cant just throw everything away!”
“You cant throw away whats already broken.”
Tristan scoffed, still not grasping her resolve.
“All your shirts and jeans are here,” she added. “No need to thank me. Leave. Now.”
He opened his mouth, but Katie swung the door wide. Face flushed with rage, he grabbed the bag.
“Youll regret this!” he spat. “No one else will put up with you! Youre nothing without me!”
Katie smirked.
“If nothing means a woman with her own flat, a job, and no tolerance for grown men who cant stand up to their mothersthen I *love* being nothing.”
