Mom said, “Intent doesn’t make the dressing dry.”
He shook his head.
“This is ridiculous. The doctor said she’s fine, right?”
My sister flinched.
I answered before Mom could.
“The clinician said the wound didn’t reopen. That doesn’t make what you did fine.”
He looked at me. “Why are you even involved?”
“Because I walked in while you were doing it.”
“You always take her side.”
“I took the side of the person crouched behind patio furniture.”
Mom put one hand on the table.
“Enough.”
My brother turned to her as if he had finally found someone reasonable.
“Thank you.”
“I was talking to you.”
His expression changed.
Mom slid her phone across the table until the photograph of his message was visible.
“You had time to send me this while she was outside bleeding.”
“I was warning you.”
“About what?”
“That she was going to make me the bad guy.”
Mom looked at him for a long time.
“You were more worried about being blamed than about why her bandage was bleeding.”
He pushed his chair back.
“No. I was worried that I’d get blamed for something I didn’t do.”
My sister spoke quietly.
“You did do it.”
He turned toward her.
“I sprayed water.”
“At me.”
“Because you wouldn’t move.”
“I was hurt.”
“And I was trying to clean something you ruined.”
The moment those words left his mouth, the argument collapsed under them.
Nobody had to interpret what he meant. Nobody had to accuse him of caring more about the cushions than his sister. He had just said it himself.
My sister’s face went still.
She stood carefully.
My brother looked frustrated rather than alarmed.
“There. That. She’s doing it again.”
Mom stepped between them.
“No. She’s leaving a conversation where you just blamed her for what happened while she was injured.”
He laughed once, but there was no confidence in it anymore.
“So what do you want me to say?”
Mom answered, “Start with the truth.”
He stared at the floor.
A few seconds passed.
Then he muttered, “Fine. I shouldn’t have sprayed her.”
My sister had reached the living-room doorway. She stopped but did not turn around.
My brother continued, “But she also shouldn’t have gotten blood all over something I just bought.”
Mom closed her eyes.
That was when I understood this was not going to end with the right apology. He was still bargaining for a version where the cushion made what he did understandable.
