The Cost of Loyalty

My mom once slapped me for asking my sister, Vanessa, to leave my house on my birthday, in front of everyone.
“How dare you kick your sister out!” she shrieked, her voice echoing in my new apartment.
“This is the day I made a mistake by giving birth to you!”

I left there crying, the sting of her words worse than the physical pain. She knew very little about her ‘loved’ daughter. After a month, she called me in shock:

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I never thought this day would come.

Standing in my very own apartment, keys in hand, I couldn’t stop smiling. After years of saving every penny, living in a tiny rental, and giving up small luxuries, I had finally done it.

I, Aubrey Gloria, was a homeowner.

People always said I was the responsible one in the family. My younger sister, Vanessa, jumped from one significant other to another, always depending on them for money. Meanwhile, I worked hard at Thompson and Associates LLC, saving every extra dollar I could.

Our mom always said Vanessa was “just finding herself,” but I knew better; she had always been this way – the favorite child who could do no wrong.

I ran my hand along the kitchen counter.

“This is my kitchen,” I whispered to myself.

It wasn’t fancy, but it was mine. Paying the mortgage would be tough, but I had planned everything carefully. I made spreadsheets, budgets, and calculated every expense. That’s who I am: the planner, the responsible one.

Or, as Vanessa calls me, “the boring one.”

I decided to have a small housewarming party. Nothing big, just a few close friends from work and some old school friends. I even invited Mom and Vanessa, though I didn’t expect much.

Mom’s response was the usual: “Oh honey, I’m so busy with work this weekend, you know how it is.”

Vanessa didn’t even reply. Typical.

Caroline from accounting was the first to arrive.

“Aubrey, this place is amazing!” she said, handing me a bottle of wine. “You actually did it!”

One by one, my friends arrived. Tyler and Megan from high school brought a houseplant, and my co-worker Cole showed up with a cheese plate. Soon, the apartment was filled with laughter and conversation – the kind that makes a place feel like home.

“To Aubrey,” Tyler raised his glass later that night. “Proof that hard work and determination still pay off!”

Everyone cheered, and I felt tears in my eyes. These people, my chosen family, were here to celebrate with me. Mom and Vanessa’s absence hurt a little, but I was used to it; they had always cared more about each other than me.

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Guests

Three weeks after the party, on a quiet Friday afternoon, my doorbell rang.

I wasn’t expecting anyone. I was still in my old sweatpants, my hair tied up messily, doing some light cleaning around the apartment.

When I opened the door, my heart skipped a beat.

Mom and Vanessa stood there, both wearing the familiar looks I knew too well.

“Well, aren’t you going to invite us in?” Mom asked, pushing past me without waiting for an answer. Her designer purse swung on her arm as she made her way inside.

Vanessa followed, wearing sunglasses indoors like some kind of celebrity.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” I said, still standing by the open door.

Mom was already in my kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers like she owned the place.

“Aubrey, you haven’t even started dinner? It’s already five o’clock!”

“Mom, how could I start dinner when I didn’t even know you were coming?” I sighed, closing the door and following her. “You could have called first.”

She waved her hand like it didn’t matter, a gesture that always made me feel small.

“You’ve always been hopeless with household chores,” she said. “I tried to teach you, but you were always too busy with your nose in those accounting books.”

Meanwhile, Vanessa walked around my apartment like she was inspecting a house for sale. She ran her fingers along the walls, peeked into every room, and kept shaking her head like she was judging everything.

“I’ll make some tea,” I said, trying to be polite, even though they had just barged in.

As I filled the kettle, Vanessa finally sat down at the kitchen table. She took off her sunglasses and gave me that look – the one she always had when she wanted something.

“This is actually a nice place, Aubrey,” she said in a voice that usually meant bad news was coming. “The location is perfect, right in the middle of everything.”

“Thanks,” I replied carefully, setting out three mugs.

Mom was still criticizing how I organized my kitchen, but I had learned to tune her out years ago.

Vanessa ran her finger along the edge of the table. “I have some news,” she said. “Brandon and I broke up.” She sighed dramatically. “He wanted me to start paying rent, can you believe that? After seven months together!”

I bit my tongue and focused on pouring the tea.

“So anyway,” Vanessa continued, “I had to move out of his place, obviously. And you know how expensive rent is these days.” She paused, letting that thought sink in. “I was thinking I could stay here with you for a few months.”

The mug in my hand froze halfway to the table.

“Just for a little while,” she added quickly, “four months tops, until I find a job and get back on my feet.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. I set the mug down carefully. “I just moved in myself, and I really need my space.”

Mom’s voice cut through the kitchen like a knife.

“How dare you be so selfish! Your sister is going through a hard time! She has nowhere to go, no money, and here you are, sitting in your fancy new apartment all alone, and you won’t even help your own sister?”

“Mom, Vanessa can stay with you,” I said firmly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Your house has plenty of space.”

Vanessa groaned loudly before Mom could answer.

“Oh my goodness, Aubrey, have you seen where Mom lives? It’s like a retirement village! Nothing but old people walking their dogs and going to bed at eight!”

“It’s a perfectly nice neighborhood,” I started, but Vanessa wasn’t finished.

“Your place is in the center of everything!” She waved her hands toward the windows. “There are clubs, bars, shops, places where I can actually meet people and make connections! How am I supposed to rebuild my life stuck in the suburbs?”

“You’re being incredibly selfish,” Mom added, “after everything we’ve done for you!”

They kept going, taking turns like a well-practiced team.

When I refused, Vanessa would tear up and dab her eyes with a tissue. When that didn’t work, Mom would launch into another speech about family loyalty. Back and forth they went, like a tennis match.

Then Mom went for the final blow.

“Your father would be so disappointed in you,” she said. “He always taught you girls to look after each other. What would he think if he could see you now, turning your back on your own sister?”

That hit me hard. Dad had passed away six years ago, and Mom knew how to use his memory against me.

I felt the fight drain out of me, like water down a bathtub.

“Fine,” I heard myself say. The word tasted bitter in my mouth. “Four months. That’s it.”

Vanessa’s tears magically disappeared.

“Oh my goodness, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“But there are conditions,” I said, trying to sound firm. “You have to find a job, save money, and move out in four months. I mean it.”

“Of course, of course!” Vanessa jumped up and threw her arms around me. “You’re the best sister ever! I’ll start job hunting tomorrow!”

I stood stiffly, not hugging her back.

Mom looked pleased, like a chess player who had just won the game.

Chapter 2: The Houseguest from Hades

The next evening, Vanessa showed up with three enormous suitcases and several shopping bags. I barely had time to process what I had agreed to before she was already pushing through the front door.

“So, where’s my room?” she asked, wheeling her suitcases down the hallway.

She glanced around, then stopped at my bedroom door and peeked inside.

“This one’s perfect! The view is amazing!”

“That’s my room,” I said. “You’ll be staying in the guest bedroom,” I said quickly. “Or you can go back to Mom’s.”

Vanessa pouted but didn’t argue. I watched as she wheeled her suitcases into the smaller room, her shoulders slumped in disappointment.

That first night, I made us both pasta for dinner. Vanessa was still unpacking, complaining about the small closet space when I called her to the table.

I figured it was best to set some rules right away.

“Okay, if we’re going to live together, we need to have some boundaries,” I said, watching her twirl spaghetti around her fork. “First rule: no loud noise. I wake up early for work, and the walls here aren’t that thick.”

“Fine, fine,” she said, taking a bite. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Second, we need to be careful with utilities. That means no long showers,” I added, giving her a look. I still remembered Mom’s crazy water bills when we were teenagers. “And don’t forget to turn off lights when you leave a room.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I’m not twelve, Aubrey. I know how to flip a light switch.”

“And most importantly,” I continued, ignoring her comment, “no guests without asking me first. This is my apartment, and I need to know who’s coming and going.”

Vanessa put down her fork and looked me in the eye.

“I understand, Aubrey, really. I know I haven’t always been responsible, but I want to prove that I’ve changed. I’m going to find a job, save money, and be out of your hair before you know it.”

She actually seemed sincere, more than I’d seen in years.

For the first time since this all started, I felt a tiny bit of hope.

Maybe she really had grown up.
Maybe this could work.

The first week went surprisingly well.

I left early for work, and Vanessa spent her mornings getting ready for “job interviews,” or so she said. She even started cooking dinner. Nothing fancy, but it was nice to come home to a warm meal and a clean kitchen.

“How was the interview today?” I asked one evening over a pretty good chicken stir-fry she had made.

“Really good!” she said excitedly, talking about some marketing firm downtown. “They said they’d call me back next week.”

This became a routine for about three weeks. I’d come home to dinner, a tidy apartment, and Vanessa full of stories about different companies she had visited.

I started to believe that maybe, just maybe, my sister had finally changed.

Then things started to shift.

First, I noticed dishes piling up in the sink.
Then the cooking stopped altogether.

I’d come home to find Vanessa sprawled on my couch, glued to her phone, the apartment looking exactly as I’d left it, or worse.

One evening, after an especially long day at work, when I walked in, Vanessa was in the same spot she’d been in when I left that morning. The only difference: she had ordered takeout for herself and left the empty container on my coffee table.

I sighed and started making dinner while she kept scrolling through her phone.

When the food was ready, she finally wandered into the kitchen, drawn in by the smell.

“Vanessa,” I said, trying to stay calm, “I thought we agreed to share the household chores.”

“Ugh, I’m just so tired of cooking and cleaning,” she groaned, helping herself to the stir-fry I had made. “It’s so boring.”

“How was job hunting today?”

She shrugged, chewing her food.

“Went to another interview. They want like, six years of experience for an entry-level job, can you believe that?”

“Did you apply anyway?”

“No way,” she scoffed. “I’m not wasting my time on companies with stupid requirements like that.”

Chapter 3: The Breaking Point

A month into this temporary arrangement, any hope I had of Vanessa changing was gone. My apartment had turned into her personal crash pad. After endless nights of partying while I was at work, I could hear her loud phone conversations through the walls. So could my neighbors. More than once, they complained about the noise.

“Sorry, can’t talk now,” I overheard her saying one morning as I was getting ready for work. “Yeah, totally hungover. No, my sister’s still here. Ugh, she’s so uptight.”

That night, she stumbled in at 3 AM, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. I was awake, of course; how could I sleep with her banging around like a drunk elephant?

The next morning, she dragged herself out of her room at noon, still in last night’s clothes.

“Aubrey,” she croaked, flopping onto the couch, “I need you to go to the pharmacy. I’m dying. I need those hangover pills, you know, the ones with the electrolytes.”

“There’s water and pain relievers in the kitchen,” I said, not even looking up.

“You’re the worst!” she whined. “A good sister would help.”

I had finally had enough.

That evening, I called Mom.

“Mom, you need to talk to Vanessa,” I said as soon as she picked up. “She’s not even trying to find a job. She’s out partying every night, sleeping all day.”

“Oh, Aubrey,” Mom interrupted with that same dismissive tone, “you’re making a big deal out of nothing. She just needs time to figure things out. You were always so serious at her age. You never knew how to have fun.”

Meanwhile, the apartment was getting worse by the day. Vanessa’s room had turned into a disaster zone: dirty dishes piling up, old food sitting around, and clothes thrown everywhere. It was disgusting.

I didn’t even want to look at Vanessa’s room anymore. Clothes were thrown everywhere, empty wine bottles rolled on the floor, and dirty coffee cups were hidden under piles of laundry. The few times I tried to clean, I found moldy mugs that had probably been sitting there for weeks.

One evening, when she was actually home, I finally confronted her.

“Vanessa, this has to stop. You’re not looking for a job, you’re not helping around the house, and your room…”

That set her off.

She stormed into her room, slammed the door, and immediately started dialing her phone.

Twenty-five minutes later, my phone rang. It was Mom.

“Aubrey!” she screeched before I could even say hello. “How dare you harass your sister? She called me crying!”

“Mom, you don’t understand…”

“No, you don’t understand! She’s trying her best, and all you do is criticize her! I raised you better than this!”

The next three months dragged by. My utility bills had doubled because Vanessa took hour-long showers, left the lights on all day, and ran the AC full blast even when she wasn’t home. I was spending a fortune on groceries that she ate without ever contributing. The kitchen was always a mess unless I cleaned it myself.

Meanwhile, Vanessa’s social life was thriving. She came and went at all hours, always dressed up for the club, always meeting new friends. She helped herself to my food, my wine, my toiletries – anything she could get her hands on.

But work? That was beneath her.

Chapter 4: The Uninvited Guest

Then came Monday.

The sound of keys jangling and drunk giggling woke me from a dead sleep. I squinted at my clock: 4:15 AM.

Another one of Vanessa’s late-night returns. But something was different.

This time, there were three voices.

I threw on my robe and stepped into the hallway.

What I saw stopped me in my tracks.

Vanessa was barely standing, her makeup smeared, but she wasn’t alone. A guy I had never seen before had his arm around her waist. He was tall, wearing a leather jacket despite the summer heat, and had that smug look I’d seen on too many of Vanessa’s past partners.

“Oh, hey Aubrey,” Vanessa slurred. “This is Shawn. Isn’t he amazing?”

Shawn barely glanced at me before going back to kissing Vanessa’s neck.

“Vanessa,” I said sharply, “what is he doing here?”

She grinned like she was about to tell me the best news ever.

“Shawn’s going to stay with us, in my room! His roommate kicked him out, can you believe it?”

It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on me.

“Absolutely not,” I said.

“Oh, don’t be such a buzzkill,” Shawn finally spoke, his voice full of arrogance. “Your sister said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Then they started making out again, right in front of me. Shawn’s hands started wandering in ways that made me want to bleach my eyes.

“Stop it!” I snapped. “Shawn, you need to leave now.”

Vanessa pulled away from him, her face annoyed.

“No way! He’s staying with me!”

“This is my apartment,” I said, my voice rising, even though I tried to stay calm. “You don’t get to move in random people without asking me first.”

“You’re such a drag!” Vanessa screamed, her face turning red. “You’ve always been jealous of my relationships!”

That was it. The last bit of my patience was gone.

“Get out,” I said, my voice deadly quiet. “Both of you. Now.”

Vanessa stumbled slightly.

“You can’t kick me out! I live here!”

“No, you don’t.”

I walked into her room, grabbed her suitcases from the closet, and threw them onto the bed.

“You were supposed to stay here temporarily. You were supposed to be looking for a job. You were supposed to be trying.” I turned to face her. “Now, pack your things.”

For a moment, Vanessa just stared at me.

Then suddenly, she started throwing her clothes and stuff into her suitcases like a tornado. Shawn stood in the doorway, watching silently.

Seventeen minutes later, she slammed the last suitcase shut so hard I thought the zipper might break.

She grabbed the handles, her knuckles white with anger.

“Fine! Keep your stupid apartment!” she yelled, dragging her suitcases toward the door. “You’re a horrible sister! You’ve always been horrible! I hate you!”

She stormed out with Shawn right behind her, shouting every curse word she could think of as she left.

The door slammed so hard that my pictures shook on the walls.

And then, silence.

My hands were shaking.

It took exactly forty-five minutes for my phone to ring. Mom’s name flashed on the screen.

“How dare you throw your sister out in the middle of the night!” she shrieked the moment I picked up. “She could have been hurt!”

I hung up.

Then I turned off my phone completely.