Ejecting the Cuckoo From the Nest

The poster kept criticizing her sister-in-law.

[She keeps making my mother-in-law send her care packages from home. Does she think that stuff doesn’t cost money? Sometimes, she even texts her brother in the middle of the night. She’s a grown adult, but she can’t understand that it was not appropriate. How shameless!]

I frowned.

I had once asked my mother to send me some of our special hometown sausages. Before the package arrived, Naomi called me.

The first thing she said was, “Jackie, I have to tell you this because I care about you. You’re really quite thoughtless when it comes to some things. We can barely afford meat at home, but you’re asking Mom to send you so much!”

After hanging up, I sent my mother $1,000.

When the package arrived, I nearly burst into laughter. I assumed that Mom had sent a lot, but there was only one measly pack of sausages in there.

As for the matter of the text, I had once gotten into an argument with Naomi.

I had been online and found some news about the vaccines, so I sent it to my brother, Jon, as a reminder to take our elderly parents to get the shots.

Naomi had seen the text and immediately sent me a voice message to scold me for it.

“Are you mad? Why are you sending Jon texts in the middle of the night? Don’t you know what time it is? Even a mistress would know better than to do that!”

That sparked a huge row, and we gave each other the silent treatment for a while.

The more I read the post, the deeper my frown got.

Meanwhile, I had arrived in my neighborhood.

I paid, brought my luggage over to the right building, and walked up to the door.

The fingerprint lock did not click when I put my thumb to it. Flabbergasted, I tried again, but nothing happened.

I keyed in the string of numbers I remembered—my birthday and my mother’s birthday combined—but it still did not work.

The red light from the keypad flashed at me.

The unease I had felt since reaching the place intensified.

I called Jon, but he did not answer.

I called Mom, and it rang for a long time before she picked up.

“Mom, did you change the door’s code?”

Silence was all that came through the line for a few seconds. When she spoke, my mother sounded hurt. “Um… yes. It was changed. Naomi said the code was too simple and was unsafe, so we changed it.

“Why did you go home? Didn’t I get you a hotel room?”

“What’s the new code?” I asked instead of answering.

“Um… Naomi was the one who set it, so I don’t know. Can you wait for me to get back?”

“Mom,” I said with a calm voice, “I’m at the door now. Tell me the new code. If you don’t, I’ll call a locksmith.”

She must have sensed that I was serious.

“Oh, child, why are you so stubborn? Alright, I’ll text it to you.”

After I hung up, a text came in with a string of numbers: 0105.

It was Jon’s birthday.

I scowled and entered the code.

With a click, the door unlocked.

The interior was warm, a sharp contrast to the chill of the outside.

I opened the shoe drawer in the vestibule to get my house slippers, but I could not find them.

I usually had two pairs of running shoes in there as well, but they were shoved into a corner and covered with dust.

I dragged my luggage inside.

When I passed by the master bedroom, I noticed something amiss with the pink carpet.

We had agreed early on that the master bedroom would be for our parents. Since I spent most of my time in another city, I took the smallest bedroom. Meanwhile, the other bedroom was for Jon and Naomi to stay in temporarily.

But I could see that the decorations of the master bedroom did not fit my parents’ taste.

My bedroom was at the end of the hallway.

The closer I got, the faster my heart beat.

I swung the door open and became rooted to the spot.

My big wooden bed was gone. In its place was a row of white wardrobes.

My books, trophies, pictures, and everything from my childhood were all gone. In their place were a rainbow of clothes, bags, and shoes.

My room, located in the home I had bought, had been turned into Naomi’s closet.