My mother di3…d giving birth to me. Five years later, Dad married Nadine, who had a one-year-old daughter named Kelsey. I was excited to have a sister, and for a while, I followed Nadine around the house, hoping she might eventually love me the way she loved her.
By my eighth birthday, I understood that hoping wouldn’t change much.
There was one piece of chocolate cake left, and I’d asked Dad to save it for me. When I came back from putting away my presents, Nadine was setting it in front of Kelsey.
“But that was mine,” I said.
“She’s little, Blythe. Don’t be jealous.”
At Christmas, Kelsey opened toys Nadine had remembered her admiring months earlier. I got socks, a sweatshirt in the wrong size, and sometimes a gift card still tucked inside its grocery-store envelope.
When I asked Dad about it, he said I was old enough to appreciate what I had.
Eventually, I learned to smile before anyone could call me ungrateful.
By twenty-three, I’d finished college and rented a small apartment. I waited tables while applying for office jobs, paying my own bills and buying most of my clothes secondhand.
Then my best friend Anika announced her wedding, and I saw a deep-green dress in a boutique window on my walk home.
I went inside just to look. The saleswoman let me try it on, and for once, I didn’t stand in front of a mirror wondering what needed adjusting or hiding. It fit beautifully.
The price was $3,850.
I left without it, embarrassed that I’d even tried it on. But over the next few weeks, I kept thinking about how I’d felt wearing it.
I already had some money saved. For another month, I took every extra shift available, ate at home, and skipped anything that cost money. The dress was an unreasonable purchase for someone in my position. I knew that. I also knew my rent was paid and that, for once, I wanted to spend money on something simply because I loved it.
When I finally brought it home, I hung it on my closet door and sat on the bed looking at it.
A week before the wedding, I took it to Dad’s house. Nadine had offered to lend me a pair of earrings, and I wanted to see whether they matched.
Kelsey came into the bedroom while I was holding the dress against myself.
“Oh, you have to let me wear that Friday.”
“No. I haven’t even worn it yet.”
“It’s one party.”
“It’s for Anika’s wedding.”
She asked again over dinner, then followed me to my car. I refused both times.
The following afternoon, Dad called.
“Nadine says you’re making a big issue out of lending Kelsey a dress.”
“It cost almost four thousand dollars.”
“Then I imagine she’ll be careful with it.”
He sounded so certain that her promise should settle everything. When I hesitated, he sighed.
“You don’t have to make sharing with your sister this difficult.”
Kelsey texted afterward, promising she would only wear it to a charity reception with some family friends. She would keep it away from food, hang it up immediately, and bring it back the following morning.
I gave in because I wanted the calls to stop. Part of me also wanted to believe that, if I trusted her with something important, she might finally treat it that way.
She returned it two days later in a thin plastic shopping bag.
I pulled it out on my couch. Wine stains spread across the front, the skirt had a ragged tear near the hip, and the zipper wouldn’t close.
For a few seconds, I couldn’t speak.
“What happened?”
“Someone bumped into me.”
“And the tear?”
“I don’t know, Blythe. It was crowded.”
She was looking at her phone while I held the dress I’d spent weeks carrying trays to afford.
“You’re paying to have this repaired.”
Kelsey laughed.
“With what money? It’s a dress. Stop acting like I wrecked your car.”
Dad and Nadine came over that evening after she called them. I thought seeing the damage would make a difference.
Instead, Nadine asked why I’d spent so much on clothing.
“That isn’t the point,” I said. “She promised to look after it.”
“And she had an accident,” Dad replied. “You have a job. Kelsey’s still figuring things out.”
“So I’m paying because I work?”
“You’re starting a fight over something that’s already happened.”
I looked at him, waiting for even one sentence about what Kelsey owed me. He only asked whether I was really going to let this spoil our relationship.
I told them I needed to be alone.
After they left, I spread the dress on a clean sheet and photographed the stains, the torn fabric, and the damaged zipper. I saved Kelsey’s messages and found my receipt.
Then I sent her a written request to cover the damage.
Her answer arrived within minutes.
“Good luck getting anything out of me.”
I sat at my kitchen table for another hour, reading through the small-claims filing process. Before bed, I submitted the paperwork and sent her a copy.
At eight the next morning, she was outside my apartment.
“Have you lost your mind?! You’re actually suing me?”
I opened the door far enough to step into the hallway.
“I asked you to pay. You refused.”
“Because you’re being ridiculous.”
“Then you can explain that when the time comes.”
She stared at me, apparently waiting for me to back down. When I didn’t, she pulled out her phone.
“There’s something you need to see before you embarrass yourself.”
I let her inside, and she opened a video.
It showed a pedestrian bridge after dark. A girl I recognized as her friend Tori was perched on the railing while someone filmed. She laughed, lifted one hand, and suddenly slipped backward.
Kelsey rushed into the frame wearing my green dress. She caught Tori around the waist and pulled her toward the walkway. Both fell hard, and a cup of red wine splashed across them.
I watched Tori sit up crying, and my stomach tightened.
“Was she hurt?”
“Scraped up. That’s all.”
“I’m glad you caught her.”
Kelsey folded her arms.
“Exactly. So you can stop this now.”
I looked at the paused image. Her wrist had been wrapped in a bandage when she returned the dress, but I’d been too upset to ask about it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you started yelling.”
“I asked what happened.”
“Well, now you know.”
She handed me the phone so I could watch again. As I touched the screen, I noticed a row of earlier clips from the same night. One showed Kelsey standing on a bar.
“What’s this?”
She reached for the phone.
“That has nothing to do with it.”
But the clip had already started playing.
Kelsey stood above a cheering group, turning in a circle while holding her drink. When she climbed down, the skirt caught beneath her shoe. She pulled it free with a sharp tug.
The camera moved closer as someone laughed.
“Your sister’s going to lose it.”
“She’ll get over it,” Kelsey answered.
I looked up at her. She was suddenly quiet.
The next clip showed her outside the club, smiling into the camera. A friend asked how she’d got past the age check.
Kelsey held up a driver’s license.
Mine.
For a moment, I forgot about the dress.
“Where did you get that?”
She tried to take the phone again, and I handed it back.
“Your purse was open at Dad’s house.”
“You went into my wallet?”
“I was going to put it back.”
“Where is it now?”
She hesitated, then took it from the pocket inside her phone case.
I checked the photograph and my address before setting it on the kitchen counter. I’d spent the previous morning searching my car for it.
“You let me think I’d lost it.”
“I didn’t know you were looking.”
“You didn’t ask.”
She sat on the couch, her anger beginning to give way to panic.
“Please don’t tell Dad. He already told me to stop seeing those friends.”
I remembered the trouble they’d been involved in two years earlier, when Kelsey had come home from the mall with merchandise she hadn’t paid for.
“I’ll pay you,” she said quickly. “I have savings. I can give you some now. Just don’t show them the videos.”
“You had savings yesterday, too.”
She looked down.
I asked her to leave. Before she did, I told her that repayment would not be conditional on me keeping another secret for her.
Three evenings later, Dad invited me to dinner to “sort this out.”
Kelsey sat beside Nadine with red eyes and a plate she hadn’t touched. Dad waited until I sat down before speaking.
“She told us about the bridge. You could have mentioned that before making her sound careless.”
“She was careless with the dress before they reached the bridge.”
Nadine shook her head.
“A girl is alive because of your sister. Surely that matters more.”
“It matters a great deal. I told her I was glad she helped.”
“Then why are we still discussing money?” Dad asked.
I could feel myself slipping into the familiar position of having to prove I was allowed to be upset. I put my glass down before my shaking hand spilled it.
“Did she tell you how she got into the club?”
Kelsey closed her eyes.
Dad turned toward her.
“What club?”
The silence lasted long enough that Nadine asked the question again. Finally, Kelsey admitted she hadn’t attended the reception. Then she told them about taking my license.
Dad looked at me.
“Did you know she had it?”
“No. I thought I’d lost it.”
For once, he didn’t immediately explain away what she’d done.
Nadine began asking Kelsey questions, and I stayed quiet while she answered them. When Dad eventually asked what punishment I thought was appropriate, I shook my head.
“That’s between you and her. I came because you asked me to discuss what happened to my property.”
Kelsey wiped her cheeks.
“I can give you half now. The rest when I get paid.”
“You told me you didn’t have money.”
“I didn’t want to spend my savings.”
Hearing her say it so plainly hurt more than I expected.
Neither Dad nor Nadine answered.
We put the payment arrangement in writing properly afterward. I also took the dress to a specialist, who confirmed that repairs would leave visible damage. Kelsey agreed to reimburse the purchase price, and I agreed to settle the claim once she completed the payments.
I wore a borrowed dress to Anika’s wedding. When she saw me watching the photographer arrange us, she squeezed my hand.
“You look lovely. Come stand beside me.”
I stayed until the last dance.
Kelsey’s payments arrived over the following months. Twice, she asked for more time, and we agreed on new dates in writing. I closed the case after the final payment cleared.
Dad called afterward and said he hoped things could return to normal.
I was folding laundry when he said it, and for once, I didn’t rush to reassure him.
“I’ll still come to dinner,” I told him. “But if Kelsey asks for something and I say no, I need you to let that be my answer.”
He was quiet for a while.
“All right,” he said.
I didn’t know whether he would keep that promise. But the next time Kelsey texted to borrow something from my closet, I told her it wasn’t available and went back to what I was doing.