The coffee filters were on the top shelf, but Kayla kept asking Andrew to reach them whenever she crossed our kitchen in a towel. She called it a test, even after I told her to stop. On Sunday, Andrew set down his coffee, unlocked his phone, and showed her why he'd stopped leaving the room that day.
One morning, after I'd already asked my sister to stop walking through our kitchen in nothing but a towel, she asked my husband to reach the coffee filters for her.
Andrew looked at the cabinet.
Then at Kayla.
Then he picked up his coffee and walked out of the room.
She asked my husband to reach the coffee filters for her.
Kayla watched him go.
"What's his problem?"
I shut the cabinet she'd left open.
"You're his problem."
She laughed.
That was what finally got me.
"What's his problem?"
***
Two weeks earlier, Kayla had arrived at our door with two suitcases, $287 in her checking account, and mascara dried beneath both eyes.
Her boyfriend of six years had told her to leave their apartment.
I hadn't asked whether she could afford a hotel.
Kayla had arrived at our door.
I hadn't told her to call friends first.
I'd taken one suitcase while Andrew took the other.
"Stay here until you get back on your feet," I'd told her.
Andrew had agreed before I'd even finished the sentence.
I hadn't told her to call friends first.
For the first week, Kayla was an easy houseguest.
Then came the towel.
The first morning, I assumed she'd forgotten Andrew was downstairs.
The second time, I pulled her aside.
"Could you put on a robe before coming down? Andrew's usually in the kitchen."
I assumed she'd forgotten Andrew was downstairs.
Kayla blinked at me.
"He's your husband, Amanda, not a teenage boy."
"I know."
"Then what's the problem?"
"It makes me uncomfortable."
She studied my face as though I'd presented her with a puzzle.
Then she shrugged.
"Fine."
Except the next morning, she did it again.
"It makes me uncomfortable."
***
Now Andrew was upstairs, and Kayla was stirring sugar into her coffee like nothing had happened.
"I asked you to stop," I snapped.
She leaned against the counter.
"And I don't understand why you care."
"You don't have to understand."
"I asked you to stop."
"You're seriously threatened by me wearing a towel?"
"No."
"Because if you trust Andrew..."
