Despite my desperation, I stared at the empty cardboard sign for too long, trying to find a less desperate response. Strangely, asking for help is hard even when you’re desperate.
Kids were quieter today. They seem to be picking up more than I wanted. A shoelace from her sneaker fell off, and Jovi sat there fussing. Hope is attached to Milo due to his refusal to give up the puppy. I still find it strange that we care for a dog while we can’t care for ourselves. But honestly? The small man keeps Milo from shutting down. So I let it.
I took out my ancient flip phone after waiting. I saved one number. Just one. My sister.
We hadn’t talked in three years. Our last conversation ended with cursing, tears, and her saying I always brought people down. I said she didn’t understand reality. The last time.
I hit “call” anyhow.
It rang four times. Then five.
Just as I hung up, her voice came through.
Not the voice I recalled.
Quite cold. She began with, “Why are you calling now?”
It felt like someone had roped my throat. I opened my mouth but said nothing. The silence became suffocating.
“Hello?” She grew impatient. Are you there?
“Yes,” I croaked, clearing my throat. It’s me.”
Another pause. Then, “Oh.” She sounded astonished, possibly disoriented. Rina, what do you want?
Her question hurt more than any insult. I wanted what? Everything. A miracle. A lifeline. Kiddie food. Holeless shoes. Maybe some dignity. But I only said, “I need help.”
After sighing into the phone, I could see her squeezing her nose bridge like she did when things got stressful. You disappeared for three years, and now this? From nowhere?
“I know,” I mumbled, glancing at the damaged floors. “I erred. I should’ve phoned earlier. I didn’t anticipate your concern.”
Bitter, harsh laughter. “Care? Of course I cared! You think one quarrel made me stop caring? Rina, what hurt was seeing you leave every time something went wrong instead of let anyone in. Let me in.”
Her comments hurt because they were true. My shove drove her and everyone else away. I was protected by pride and punished by loneliness.
My voice broke as I muttered, “I’m sorry.” “I don’t know what else to say.”
We were silent for a time. She whispered, “Where are you?”
Two hours later, she arrived at our tiny flat, which was so rundown the landlord wouldn’t replace the furnace. She was clutching two full grocery bags when I opened the door. He seemed like he’d rather be somewhere else.
“This is Caleb,” she nodded. He waved halfheartedly before entering.
I collected her bags and murmured, “Thanks for coming,” feeling embarrassed and small. The fragrance of fresh bread and oranges was new to me after weeks.
“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, passing me. See what kind of mess you got yourself into.”
She ran about the flat for an hour, scrutinizing everything and asking me questions. I owed how much rent? Was my job secured? What about kid school? She tightened her jaw with each answer.
Finally, she faced me. This is the deal. You’re temporarily living with me. Let’s sort out the rest later.”
“What?” Shocked, I blinked. “I can’t—”
“You can, and you will,” she barged in. “Rina, I’m not doing this because I forgive you or trust your decisions. Because those kids deserve better. Deep down, you do.”
I wanted to fight and say I could do it myself. Unfortunately, I couldn’t. Not anymore.
“Thank you,” I whispered, crying.
She mellowed. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“That you won’t isolate me again.”
Moving in with my sister was difficult at first. Money, chores, and kids’ bedtimes were disputed. Caleb was quiet but bonded with Milo over video games. However, things improved gradually. She updated my resume, and I got a part-time job in a café a month later. It was little, but enough to start paying off bills.
I never saw the twist coming.
My sister revealed something while we folded laundry one night. “Remember when I told you I started dating last year?”
I nodded. She addressed it briefly but didn’t elaborate.
“Well…” She twisted a sock and hesitated. “Caleb’s dad.”
My jaw fell. “Wait—what? You’re dating his dad?
“Not exactly,” she said. It turns out Caleb’s dad is my supervisor. And things became tricky. Really fast.”
After she explained, it made sense. Caleb’s mother struggled to raise him alone after his father left years earlier. My sister provided financial and emotional support. Their connection deepened and became messier.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to judge me,” she said. “But I realize now that secrets only make things worse.”
For once, I understood her perspective. We couldn’t let secrets define us forever after nearly destroying our relationship.
Life settled down over months. Hope became the kids’ favorite roommate as they settled in. Caleb warmed up to me and said he liked having cousins.
My sister came out on the porch to watch Jovi and Milo play with Hope. You know,” she whispered, “we’ve both made errors. Big ones. But look where we are.”
Leaning on her shoulder, I smiled. “Yeah. Maybe we needed those mistakes to get here.”
She playfully nudged me. “Don’t get philosophical on me.”
“Too late,” I joked. “But seriously—thanks for another chance.”
“Anytime,” she said. “Remember: family sticks together. No matter.”
As the sun set, coloring the sky orange and pink, I realized something crucial. Sometimes life gives us second chances, but we must take them. To abandon pride, resentment, and fear. To accept imperfect love with open hearts.
That’s the lesson I’ll always remember: forgiveness is for us too. Because the person in the mirror can be the hardest to forgive.
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