Instead my mother turned toward me with a look so cold it made my skin prickle.
“How could you be so cruel to your sister?” she demanded.
Cruel. Like I’d done something violent by protecting my own savings.
My dad’s jaw flexed. He always got that muscle twitch when he was trying to hold in anger.
“Clara is more talented than you’ll ever be,” my mother continued. “You’re just jealous of her success.”
I stared at her, stunned.
“Success?” I said, the word coming out incredulous. “What success? The bankruptcies? The creditors calling your house? Dad’s panic attacks? Mom, you refinanced your home. Twice.”
My dad slammed his hand on the table.
“Enough,” he said.
Then, in a voice that felt rehearsed, like he’d practiced it in the mirror, he delivered the killing blow.
“You give Clara that money,” he said, “or you’re no longer part of this family.”
It was so clean, so absolute, that for a second I didn’t believe I’d heard him correctly.
“You’re… you’re kicking me out?” I asked, and hated how small my voice sounded.
“You heard your father,” my mother said, eyes shining with righteous fury. “Family helps family.”