Smile fading, I leaned forward and laid my hand on top of hers. “You should feel like you were the kid and I was your guardian, and that was my job. To put you first.”
“But—”
“No, Dora, enough.” I squeezed her fingers. “I made the choices I did of my own free will. No one forced me. No one shamed me. I had the choice to stay in school and let you get taken into care, or come back home and be there for you when you needed me the most. In the end, it wasn’t a choice at all,” I whispered. “I lost Mom and Dad too, sis, but I was lucky, because when they left, they didn’t leave me alone.
“They gave me this home,” I said, gazing at our perfect little fantasy brought to life, “and you. What kind of dumbass would I be to give up the two best gifts they ever gave me, for a dusty old school that’s not going anywhere?” I flicked her wet nose. “I will go back to school, Dora. I’ll get my degree. I’ll become the kind of lawyer Mom and Dad wanted to be—one who helps people intheir darkest moments. And I’ll do all of that knowing I made Mom proud. I became the butterfly she knew I would be.”
Adora looked away, sniffling. “You always do that. I start out mad at you, but then you know exactly what to say to make me forget why I was even mad in the first place.
“But not this time.”
I blinked.What?
“What?” I said aloud. “What do you mean?”
“I was the kid, and you were the guardian,” she confessed. “The big sister. You had to make the hard choices, because all the hard choices fell on you. But if you could do that at eighteen, I can too.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means thank you, sis, really, but I don’t want the car.” She slid the keys across the table. “You’re the one with the job. You’re the one with a pile of house bills. You need a car more than me. But I’m going to help you out with that because”—she shot up straight in her seat—“I’m going to get a job too.”
“No,” I replied without hesitation. “You’re going to Johns Hopkins, D. It’s not the kind of school where you can work all day, party all night, and then puke your way into class the next morning. You need to give it your full attention. You—”
“I’m not asking your permission, Char.” She folded her arms, fixing her chin in the same stubborn way Mom would. “Mom and Dad left the house to both of us. Now that I’m an adult, I can kick in money to cover my share.”
“Your share?” I cried. “You won’t even be living here! Why would I let you compromise your studies just to pay for a house that’s over seven hundred miles away?”
“Well, I— You—” I had her there. “Well, you have to let me do something! If I can’t help you with the house, then I’ll... I’ll... I’ll pay for school myself,” she pounced.
I was already shaking my head before she found the end of her sentence. “You have a college fund, Dora. That’s taken care of.”
“You can use it. Take the money to pay off the bills and then—”
“No.” My face and tone were serious. “Mom and Dad started that fund for you when you were born. I’ve been adding to it, yes, but the bulk of it came from them. I’m not touching a cent of the money they left for you, Dora. And I’m not arguing about it either,” I stated when her lips parted to argue.
Her shoulders slumped. “Okay, fine, not that but... something. I don’t want us to be guardian and little kid anymore, and I’ve been thinking that for a long time,” she admitted softly. “We used to be sisters, Char. Just sisters. And I want to be that way again. Don’t you get that?”
“I...” I swallowed hard, eyes prickling. “I do get that... and I want it too. Now that we’re both grown up and you’re going to college, we can be just sisters again.” I cupped her cheek. “But being sisters isn’t about money, and you know that. I’m allowed to throw you lavish birthday surprises, and I’m allowed to give you my car if I want to. I can do whatever I want because I’m the big sister and you’re not the boss of me.” I stuck my tongue out at her. “So there.”
Adora giggled, her pout running away. “I’m not going to take the car, but I do want to help out with the bills and stuff so that you have time to go back to school. You’re twenty-two, C, and it takes seven years to become a lawyer. Do you really want to wait until your thirties for your life to start?”
I made a noise under my breath. “Well, when you put it like that...” I tossed my head. “Look, it’s a no-go on splitting the house bills. You’re moving out. It just doesn’t make sense. But,” I rushed when she shot up to argue, “you could talk to the hospital administrator and see about turning your volunteer shifts intoan internship. We’ll have to buy a whole bunch of stuff for your move to Maryland and into the dorms, so I wouldn’t say no to you helping to cover those costs. Plus, it’ll look good on your résumé.”
“I—” She perked up. “Okay, then, yeah. I can do that. Mrs. Appleton will for sure say yes. She’s always telling me what a godsend I am.”
I smacked the table. “Settled. Now, let’s eat!”
I didn’t need to say it twice. The best and most expensive meal we’ve had in years was getting cold right before our eyes. We couldn’t let that go on for any longer.
Settling in, we passed around the crab cakes, salad, and ribs while busting up over our favorite funny memories, and getting excited about all the things to come. The truth was I hadn’t given much thought to what my life would be like after Adora was ready to start hers.
All my focus for the last four years has been to keep our little family healthy and together.
But now I’m twenty-two years old with a high school education, a pile of unpaid bills, and seven years to wait before applying for a decent job with a decent lawyer’s salary is even an option. What am I going to do in the meantime? And is becoming a lawyer even still my dream?
“—and Baltimore to New York is only a three-hour drive, so Nikki and I are still going to see each other all the time. One weekend I’ll go up and stay with her. The next weekend she’ll come down and stay with me— Ah!” she squealed, startling me back to reality. “It’s going to be so cool, sis. We’re going to see Broadway shows, and totally be those annoying, cliché tourists snapping pics of everything from the Statue of Liberty to finance bros peeing in a corner in the subway.”
I laughed. “Wow. The New York City must-see list has really changed since I last looked it up.” I rose out of my seat. “I’ll be right back. I forgot the lighter.”
