Then I heard the car alarm. And before I’d even reached the back door, there was another thud.
I ran outside.
Jeremy was in the driveway with a wooden baseball bat, hammering the hood of my CR-V. The windshield was already spiderwebbed from one end to the other. Kelsey was standing on the front step, watching and laughing.
“What a cool design! This car looks even better now!”
I froze at the bottom of the steps.
Jeremy was in the driveway with a wooden baseball bat.
“Oh my God! Jeremy! Put the bat down,” I demanded. “Why are you doing this?”
Jeremy looked up with the easy confidence of a child who has never once been told no in a way that stuck.
“Mom said to teach you a lesson, Aunt Kristen!”
I turned to Kelsey.
She raised both hands as if I were making a scene over nothing. “He’s just exploring the world, Kristen. You can buy another car. This is actually helping my son develop his sense of agency.”
“You can buy another car.”
“I worked hard for this car, Kelsey.”
She shrugged. “Maybe next time you’ll remember not to show off so much when your own sister and nephew are driving around in a beat-up car.”
So that was it. It had never been about the car.
It was jealousy, and my sister had used her own son to act it out.
“Okay,” I said.
I walked back inside, and I started getting ready to teach them both something.
That had never been about the car.
Everyone inside had heard the alarm and was standing near the back door. My mom looked like she might be sick. A couple of cousins had already started toward the door to see what had happened.
I held up one hand. “Nobody yell. Nobody touch anything. Just come outside for a minute.”
They followed me out, and the driveway went very quiet when they saw the car.
I pulled out my phone.
Everyone inside had heard the alarm.
I walked around the CR-V slowly and photographed every angle. The hood. The windshield. The side panels, where Jeremy had apparently taken a few practice swings, I hadn’t even noticed yet. The dents in the door.
Then I said, “Jeremy, come stand next to the car for me.”
Jeremy thought this was excellent. He walked over with the bat still in his hand, grinned, and held it over his shoulder as if he’d just hit a home run, and I photographed that too.
Every single angle.
I photographed that too.
Kelsey laughed from the steps. “You’re being so dramatic, Kristen. It’s just a car.”
I didn’t answer her. I went back inside and opened my laptop at the dining room table, and I started making calls.
I spent the next hour sending photos to every reputable repair shop in the area.
The replies came in while the remaining guests sat at my dining table in complete silence, watching me work. My mom kept looking at Kelsey. Kelsey kept examining her nails.
Within the hour, I had two written estimates.
“It’s just a car.”
Both were figures that made two people in the room go pale. One of them was my mom. The other was Kelsey, though she recovered quickly.
I printed both estimates on my home printer and slid them across the table to Kelsey without a word. She looked at the top sheet and sighed like I’d handed her a grocery receipt.
“Jeremy didn’t do this alone,” I announced. “You asked him to. Which means YOU ARE responsible for the cost of repairs.”
“Jeremy didn’t do this alone.”
Kelsey set the papers down and pushed them back toward me. “You have a good job, Kristen. You can replace it.”
I slid the papers back. “I won’t be replacing it, Kelsey. You will.”
My sister did not take that well. She told me I was being vindictive. She gathered her things, took Jeremy by the hand, and left my apartment, still talking on her way out.
My mom sat at the table after everyone had gone.
“Kristen,” she said. “You know Kelsey doesn’t have that kind of money.”
She told me I was being vindictive.
“I know, Mom.”
