Chapter 6 - The Sister’s Confrontation
The next week, Naomi tried a different tactic: ambush.
I was walking out of my office building toward the parking garage on a rainy Tuesday afternoon when a figure stepped out from behind a concrete pillar. It was Naomi. She didn't have the baby with her; she looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, her designer clothes looking crumpled.
"Helena! Stop!" she yelled, running to intercept me before I could reach my car.
I stopped, keeping my distance, my umbrella held firmly over my head. "You're violating the temporary restraining order Grace filed on Monday, Naomi. If the security guard sees you, you’ll be arrested before you hit the street."
"I don't care!" she shrieked, tears streaming down her face. "You have to stop this! Bennett’s firm filed a civil lawsuit against him this morning for corporate fraud! They’re stripping his equity shares! He won't be able to get another real estate job in the entire state!"
"That sounds like a natural consequence of committing federal forgery, Naomi," I replied calmly.
"You’re doing this because you hate me!" she screamed, her voice echoing in the damp garage. "You've always hated me because I was younger, because Mom loved me more, because I could have a baby and you couldn't! You're just a bitter, barren woman who wants to steal my happiness!"
I looked at my younger sister. For years, her words would have pierced me like a dagger. I would have gone home and cried myself to sleep over my infertility, feeling like a failure as a woman. But looking at her now, surrounded by the wreckage of her own cheap, stolen life, I felt nothing but a profound sense of pity.
"I didn't steal your happiness, Naomi. You tried to build your happiness on a foundation of my stolen wages," I said, my voice steady and unwavering. "You wanted my husband? You can have him. But you don't get my money to pay for him. You wanted his last name for your son? Take it. But let's see how much respect that name carries when he’s standing in front of a criminal court judge next month."
"Helena... please," she suddenly dropped to her knees on the wet concrete, her hands clasped together in a pathetic display of submission. "We don't have money for formula. Bennett’s accounts are completely frozen. Mom can't afford to keep us both. Just give us enough to clear the lease on the Bloomington apartment. Please. For the baby."
I unlocked my car door and stepped inside, looking down at her through the open window.
May you like
"The handcrafted walnut crib and the embroidered blanket I bought are still in the hospital storage room, Naomi," I said softly. "Sell them. That should buy you enough formula for a month. Don't ever approach me again."
I rolled up the window, started the engine, and drove away, leaving her kneeling in the exhaust fumes of the freedom she had inadvertently handed me.
