Family Landlords Raise the Rent to Force One Sister Out
She turned her back to me, sliding her sunglasses onto her head with a sharp click of plastic. “Fine. But if the heat gets turned off, I am telling Mom it was your decision.”
On Sunday at one o’clock, the driveway of my parents’ brick house was crowded with Vanessa’s empty cardboard delivery boxes from her online purchases. I walked up the concrete path, the smell of damp pine needles heavy in the chilly afternoon air. Inside, my mother was standing in the dining room, her wedding ring tapping rhythmically against her phone screen as she scrolled through her emails. My father sat in the green leather armchair nearby, his thumb rubbing over his leather key fob as if he were trying to polish the surface clean.
“You need to give Vanessa ninety dollars,” my mother said before I had even reached the dining table.
“For what?” I asked, stopping near the edge of the rug.
“Her wool coats,” Helen said, her rapid, declarative commands cutting through the quiet of the room. “The dry cleaning from her move. She had to use the premium service down the street because her closet in your apartment is too damp.”
