Turning to Melanie, I asked, "Mom, what happened here?"
She hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "You've been gone for so long, and the house is small with lots of stuff, so we stored everything in your room."
"And my things?" I pressed.
Melanie looked down. Her guilt was evident. "Sold or thrown away. They're all gone."
My heart sank again. "Mom, I was in prison, not dead. Was it necessary to clear out all my things?"
When my father, Seamus Kessler, heard this from the sofa, he casually said, "Nina, Greta is five months pregnant and needs space for baby stuff. The house is cramped. Your things weren't needed anymore, so we got rid of them."
His words hit me like a ton of bricks. My father used to love organizing my things, saying he wanted to create a collection of my most meaningful belongings to give me as a wedding gift someday. Why didn't he care that they were all gone now?
"Where am I supposed to stay?" I asked.
Melanie pulled out two hundred dollars and tossed it on the table carelessly as if she were giving money to a beggar. "Here, take this. Find a motel or rent a place. It's up to you."
I forced a bitter smile. "What about James? Does he feel the same way?"
Just then, my brother, James Kessler, emerged from the bathroom. Without hesitation, he said, "Nina, you're my sister. Of course, I'm on your side. If you want to stay here, I'll clear the room for you."
It seemed James still cared about me. I nodded with relief. "Alright, I'll stay for a while."
But as soon as I said that, James' expression froze. He stood there, looking at me, but made no move to clean the room. I stared back, puzzled.
At this time, Greta walked up to me, her voice sharp. "Janina, have you lost your mind in prison? How can you be so inconsiderate? Can't you see how cramped the house is? Even if we clear out the room, it should be for the baby. You're an adult now. How can you shamelessly insist on staying here? Have some sense!"
I felt sorrowful and replied hoarsely, "Greta, this is my home. Isn't it normal for me to stay for a few days?"
"Your home? This house is under James' name now. He's married, and you're thirty years old. How can you still want to live with your brother?" Her disdain was no longer hidden, her eyes filled with contempt.
I looked at James. He pressed his lips together, looking everywhere but at me.