nothing.
I looked toward the living room where Tyler was lying on the rug coloring a fire truck red.
He was humming under his breath, happy in the simple, complete way children can be when nobody has taught them to doubt their own goodness.
Over nothing.
I put the phone away and decided I was done having this conversation by text.
At four that afternoon, my parents showed up at my apartment.
I saw their car through the blinds and felt my shoulders go tight.
Tyler looked up.
“Grandma?”
“Go put your coloring book in your room for me, sweetheart,” I said.
“And take your tablet.”
He studied my face for half a second, then nodded.
He was observant like that.
When I opened the door, my mother swept in first like she owned the air in my apartment.
My father followed with his jaw already set.
Neither of them had brought presents for Tyler they’d forgotten to give him.
Neither of them looked embarrassed.
My mother started immediately.
“This has gone far enough.”
“Has it?” I asked.
“Yes,” she snapped.
“Your sister is frantic.
Her landlord is demanding payment.
This cruel little stand you’re taking needs to end now.”
I folded my arms.
“Did Brooke delete the video?”
My mother’s lips pressed thin.
“She hid it.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
My father stepped in.
“Claire, stop being difficult.”
That word—difficult—landed exactly where it had been landing since I was fourteen.
Difficult for speaking.
Difficult for objecting.
Difficult for not laughing when Brooke crossed a line.
I looked at both of them.
“She publicly mocked my son.
You both joined in.
Not one of you has apologized.”
My mother threw up a hand.
“It was harmless.”
“To whom?” I asked.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
So I kept going.
“Tell me who it was harmless to.
Tyler? Me? Because from where I’m standing, the only people it was harmless to were the adults who found it entertaining.”
My father exhaled hard.
“You always have to turn things into a moral lecture.”
I laughed, and that seemed to startle him.
“No,” I said.
“I’ve spent years doing the opposite.
I’ve spent years swallowing things to make your lives easier.
I’m done.”
My mother’s expression changed.
That softer look, the one that tried to reposition her as the injured party.
“After everything we do for you—”
“Stop,” I said.
She froze.
“Do not say that in my home.”
Her eyes widened.
Maybe because I’d never interrupted her like that before.
Maybe because she heard something in my voice that made it clear I wouldn’t back down.
“I am the one who keeps Brooke’s rent paid,” I said.
“I do the paperwork.
I track the dates.
I talk to the landlord’s office.
I take your calls.
I manage your chaos.
And after what happened last night, you do not get to walk in here and talk to me like I’m some disobedient child.”
My father stared at me.
My mother looked suddenly less certain.
From the hallway, a small voice said, “Mom?”
We all turned.
Tyler stood there clutching his coloring book to his chest.
He looked at my parents, then at me.
“Did I do something bad yesterday?”
My mother immediately softened her face.
“No, sweetheart—”
But I stepped
