Chapter 2

The next afternoon, Gerard sent me a message. "We've moved all your stuff over."

When I arrived at the new apartment to collect my things, the four of them were busy unpacking boxes.

Gerard had lived off campus before we rented this place, and I'd left three boxes at his apartment. He'd moved them over without ever asking me.

A brand-new sofa bed sat in the middle of the living room. It was only four feet wide and had to be folded up during the day, or it would block the balcony.

The moment Joan saw me, she ran over and grabbed my hand. "You're finally here! They said you weren't moving in, but I knew you were just saying that because you were upset."

Ricky patted the sofa bed. "Come try it out. It cost over 200 dollars."

His live streaming equipment was piled on top of it, and opened cardboard boxes littered the floor. My three boxes had been left out on the balcony. The bottom one was already soaked through.

"Who put my boxes out here?" I asked, my voice tightening.

Brandon was assembling Joan's vanity. "There's no room inside. We just left them there for a bit."

"It rained last night," I said.

"Isn't it just a bunch of old junk anyway?" he muttered without looking up.

I crouched down and opened the box. The cover of my diploma was damp, and the pages of the photo album my grandmother had left me were stuck together. I'd moved four times with that album and had never once let it get wet.

Brandon came over, glanced at the damage, and shrugged. "Just dry it out in the sun. It'll be fine. Can you check Joan's bedside lamp first? She says there's something wrong with the switch."

I carefully peeled the album pages apart one by one, the ink from the photographs smearing onto my fingers.

When I was 15 years old, my grandmother was hospitalized. Brandon was preparing for exams, so I was the only one who visited Grandma every day after school to bring her meals.

Before she passed away, she gave me that album and said, "You deserve to have someone looking out for you, too."

Now, the album was ruined, and my brother cared more about whether Joan's lamp worked.

"Cynthia, this little lamp of yours is so pretty!" Joan called out.

I looked up. She was holding my ceramic lamp.

Gerard explained, "Joan's bedside lamp is broken, so I let her use it for now."

"That lamp was a gift from my grandmother."

"She's just borrowing it. It's not like it'll break," Gerard said nonchalantly.

"Give it back," I said, staring straight at Joan.

Gerard frowned.

"I said, put it back."

The room fell silent. Joan quickly handed me the lamp.

Ricky clicked his tongue. "It's just a cheap lamp. Do you have to make such a fuss?"

As I took it, I noticed a chip missing from one corner of the shade. Through the open bedroom door, I spotted the broken piece on Joan's nightstand. Not one of them had planned to tell me.

After finishing the vanity, Brandon asked, "What are we having for dinner? Cynthia, why don't you make us something to eat?"

"There's nothing in the kitchen," I said.

"Then, go to the grocery store and pick some stuff up," he said, dropping a shopping list into our group chat.

Joan wanted shrimp, Ricky wanted drinks, and Gerard wanted the short ribs I always made for him.

Brandon added one final message. "Remember to get the receipt. We'll split the cost five ways."

I carried my three boxes to the front door.

Gerard stepped in front of me. "What are you doing now?"

"Taking my things."

He pressed, "Where are you taking them?"

"That's none of your business," I said.

His expression hardened. "Cynthia Wiley, we've already tried to meet you halfway. We bought a sofa bed and moved your stuff here. What more do you want?"

I glanced at the sofa buried under all the clutter. "Return it. I won't be needing it."

Brandon was so angry that he threw his screwdriver down. "If you walk out with your stuff today, don't come back crying later!"

I picked up the damp photo album. "Fine."

They thought it was a threat, but I'd been waiting years to hear those words.