The next morning, I woke to her rummaging in the closet. She said she needed her favorite lucky sweater because she had an important job interview, and if she got this job, she could move out, find her own apartment and start her new life. I cringed. Why did she need this sweater today? It was badly stretched out because of Ben’s fumbling, and I was going to take it to the dry cleaners to see if they could fix it. The moment I heard her suck in her breath, I knew she had found it. I couldn’t see the wrath on her face because I was under the covers as she pummelled me with her fists. That afternoon, I heard her in the kitchen with our mom. She was crying. Without her lucky sweater, she didn’t have the confidence she needed to win the interview. She didn’t get the job. She wasn’t moving out.
