“It’s Just Family. Surely You Can Find an Extra Burger for Your Nephew,” My Sister Said
My younger sister, Emily, has always been the free spirit of the family. Growing up, she was the one who would forget her homework, lose her keys, and show up late to every family gathering. So, when she called me out of the blue to announce that she was moving across the country to California, I wasn’t exactly shocked.
“Hey, Sarah,” she said, her voice crackling through the phone. “I’m moving to San Francisco next week. I got a job offer I couldn’t refuse!”
“Next week?” I replied, trying to mask my surprise. “That’s… soon.”
“Yeah, I know,” she laughed. “But it’s an amazing opportunity. I just need a favor.”
Here it comes, I thought. Emily’s life was a series of last-minute plans and urgent favors.
“Sure, what do you need?” I asked, bracing myself.
“Can you take care of Max for a few months? Just until I get settled and find a place that allows pets.”
Max was her rambunctious golden retriever, a ball of energy that never seemed to tire. I already had two kids and a demanding job; adding a hyperactive dog to the mix was not something I was looking forward to.
“Emily, you know how busy I am,” I started, but she cut me off.
“Please, Sarah. It’s just for a little while. You’re family. Surely you can find some extra time for Max.”
I sighed. “Alright, but just for a few months.”
“Thank you! You’re the best!” she exclaimed before hanging up.
The next few months were chaotic. Max chewed through furniture, dug up the garden, and had more energy than my kids combined. But we managed. Emily called occasionally, always with stories of her new life in San Francisco—her exciting job, new friends, and the beautiful city.
One evening, about six months later, Emily called again.
“Hey, Sarah,” she said, her voice unusually subdued. “I need another favor.”
“What is it this time?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
“I need you to take care of Max for a bit longer. Things aren’t going as planned here.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, concerned.
“My job… it didn’t work out. And finding a place has been harder than I thought.”
I felt a pang of sympathy but also frustration. “Emily, you said it would be just a few months.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But you’re family. Surely you can find some extra patience for me.”
I agreed reluctantly. Months turned into a year, and then another. Emily’s calls became less frequent, and when they did come, they were filled with more bad news—another job that didn’t work out, another apartment that fell through.
One day, I received a letter from Emily. It was short and to the point.
“Dear Sarah,
I’m sorry for everything. I’ve decided to stay in San Francisco permanently, but I can’t take Max back. Please take care of him for me.
Love,
Emily”
I stared at the letter, feeling a mix of anger and sadness. Emily had always been scatterbrained, but this felt like abandonment.
Max had become part of our family by then, but it wasn’t easy. The kids loved him, but he was a constant reminder of my sister’s irresponsibility.
Years passed without much contact from Emily. Occasionally, I’d hear through the grapevine that she was still in San Francisco, still struggling to find her footing.
One day, I received a call from an unknown number.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hi, is this Sarah?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“This is Lisa from San Francisco General Hospital. I’m calling about your sister, Emily.”
My heart sank as she explained that Emily had been in an accident and didn’t make it.
I hung up the phone in shock. Emily’s life had been a series of chaotic events and last-minute plans that never seemed to work out. And now it had ended abruptly.
Max sat by my feet, sensing my distress. He had become a constant in our lives, a reminder of my sister’s free spirit and her ultimate downfall.
In the end, it wasn’t just about finding an extra burger for my nephew or making room for Max. It was about family—messy, complicated, and sometimes heartbreaking family.