My Sister-in-Law Moved in Without Invitation, So I Put Her Things in the Hallway

Megan turned up at my flat unannounced, and I shoved her bags into the hallway.

Whose leopardprint boots are those in the hallway? I asked, staring at the flashy shoes. We werent expecting anyone, I added, clutching the heavy grocery bags.

Oliver, my husband, slipped out of the living room, rubbing his neck like a teenager whod just smashed his mums favourite vase and was now scrambling for a way to hide the shards under the rug.

Dont worry, Iris, he started, and a chill ran down my spine. Usually after that line came news about a dented bumper or a sudden motherinlaw visit. Theres a little situation Megans arrived.

A visitor? I asked, moving into the kitchen to unload milk and veg. We didnt get a call. And why are there three pairs of boots?

Sort of not exactly a visitor, Oliver whispered, shifting his weight by the fridge. Shes had a huge row with Vicky. He tossed her out, can you believe it? Said she should pack her things and get out. Shes got nowhere to go. Mums still in that tiny flat with Dad and the cat, so shes knocked on our door for a short stay.

I set the sack of buckwheat on the table and turned to Oliver. What do you mean short stay, and why am I only hearing about this now, after the leopard boots have taken over my carpet?

Dont lose your cool, Iris. She rang earlier, but you were in a meeting and didnt pick up. She was crying on the doorstep with her suitcases. What am I supposed to do, send my own sister to the station? Shell stay a week or two, find a flat or patch things up with Vicky, then shell be off. Shes quiet, she wont bother us.

Just then the bathroom door burst open and Megan waddled out in my plush white robe the one I only wear after a long soak. Shed tied a towel turban round her head and was chewing a massive ham sandwich.

Oh, Iris, youre here! she shouted, mouth full. Your hair balms gone, I squeezed the last drop out. Buy some tomorrow, because my hairs going haywire.

I looked at the crumbs falling onto the floor, at the bold round face of Megan, and thought, This quiet life is over.

Take the robe off, I said, voice icecold.

She rolled her eyes. Come off it, love. My clothes are in a suitcase, too lazy to dig them out, she replied, flopping onto the sofa and snatching the remote. Oliver, could you brew a tea? With lemon. My throats dried out from the nerves.

The evening turned into a tense silence from me while Megan went on a nonstop tirade about how Vicky was a scoundrel, how shed wasted her best years and was now starting a new life. New life began with her devouring all the meatballs Id cooked for the next two days and turning the bathroom into a steam room for an hour and a half.

When we finally went to bed, I snapped at Oliver. This cant go on. Why is she in my robe? Why is she bossing us around? One week, thats the limit, understand?

Hang on, Iris, Oliver pleaded. Shes grieving, its a personal drama. Shell settle down soon enough. Show some compassion shes my sister.

The next morning I was off to work early. Im the senior accountant, and it was crunch time numbers were buzzing in my head. All I could think about was getting home, taking a shower, and curling up with a book.

I opened the front door and were hit by blaring pop music, the kind that makes the windows rattle. The hallway smelled of nail polish and something burnt.

In the kitchen a pan was smoking, the black bits looking like burnt potatoes. Megan was nowhere in the kitchen; shed reappeared in the living room, sitting on the floor with a whole arsenal of nail polish my polish painting her toenails a fierce red, one foot perched on the sofa upholstery.

Megan! I shouted, cutting the music off. Whats happening?

She jumped, the brush splattering the beige velvet with a bright streak. Oops, scared you! What are you doing creeping around? Look, now theres a stain because of you.

I stared at the red streak on my favourite sofa, feeling my blood boil.

Did you take my makeup bag? I asked.

I needed to look presentable for a date tonight. Had to sort myself out, she said, flicking the brush off her fingers. And the potatoes didnt actually burn, did they? I totally forgot.

You almost set the kitchen on fire! And get your feet off the sofa! Do you have your own polish and creams?

Theyre in my suitcase, buried somewhere. By the way, do you have a decent pair of tights? Mine are all snagged. I saw a pack in the chest of drawers, Olive, fortyfour days left. Can I borrow?

No, I snapped. Im not lending you anything. Put my cosmetics back and clean the pan.

Youre so petty, she muttered. Ill tell Oliver youre a miser.

Later Oliver came home, and Megan greeted him with a forlorn look. Ollie, I might have to crash at the station tonight. Your wife is shouting about nail polish and furniture. I feel like an unwanted relative.

Oliver, exhausted, looked pleadingly at me. Iris, whats the issue now?

She ruined the sofa, almost started a fire, and waltzed in with my stuff without asking, I replied.

It was an accident! Megan squealed. And she yells like a servant!

Alright, girls, enough. Megan, Ill get you tights, and Iris, well have the sofa cleaned professionally. Lets all try to live peacefully.

Peace didnt last. Days went by and the flat turned into chaos. Megan left dishes piled up in the sink, even under the sofa, and her laundry was strewn across the bathroom rail despite us having a drying rack. She never cleaned up after herself.

I tried to set boundaries. Megan, we usually wash dishes right after eating.

Later, Ill do it, she replied, leaving them soaking.

Dont blast the TV past eleven; we have to get up early.

I cant wear headphones, my ears hurt. Im also battling insomnia and depression, she said.

The worst part was Oliver. The sweet, gentle Oliver started taking Megans side whenever I wasnt there, letting her whisper in his ear.

Youre a pushover, brother, shed say, stirring my tea with a spoon. Shes got you wrapped around her finger. She takes your salary, blocks your mates. Vickys a goat, but at least he could knock a table with his fist. And you sigh.

Oliver snapped back, Iris, why didnt you make dinner? Megans been home all day, shes hungry, and the fridge only has yesterdays soup.

Megan is an adult, she could cook herself, I retorted.

Shes a guest! Shes stressed! Oliver shouted.

Guests dont live for months and start dictating the house, I shot back.

Three weeks passed. I felt like a squeezed lemon. I avoided coming home, lingered at work, took walks in the park just to dodge the inevitable confrontation with my lovely sisterinlaw.

Friday finally arrived. Id got a halfday off, so I planned a deep clean while Megan was supposedly out for a job interview (though I suspected the interview was actually at the nearby shopping centre).

I got back around one oclock. The front door was unlocked odd. I slipped into the hallway and saw massive men’s shoes, dirty and size fortyfive, tucked by the shoe rack.

From the bedroom came muffled laughter and music. I tiptoed to the bedroom door and flung it open.

On our bed, over the duvet, lay Megan in a lace nightdress the very one Oliver had given me for our anniversary and some unknown bloke with a tattoo on his shoulder. Empty beer bottles and a pizza box sat on the nightstand next to a framed wedding photo.

Whoa! the stranger said, pulling the blanket over himself. The lady of the house is back.

Megan, unfazed, stretched. Iris? Whatre you doing up so early? Were watching a film. Meet Stan.

I felt something snap inside, like a lightbulb blowing out. The anger that had been building for three weeks turned into a cold, steady calm.

Out, I said softly.

What? Stan asked.

Both of you, out. Youve got two minutes to pack up and leave, or Ill call the police.

Are you losing it, Iris? Megan protested. Were just having a night in. Stan helped me with my résumé

I said out! I shouted, my voice cracking enough to make Stan flinch. You brought a stranger into my bedroom? You wore my nightdress? Youre eating pizza on my bed?

Seriously? Megan scoffed, pulling on her jeans. Youll wash it, I wont collapse. Lets go, Stan, this place is stifling.

When Stan left, Megan tried to slip back into the living room as if nothing had happened.

Youve ruined my night, she muttered.

I stalked to the hallway, grabbed three big black rubbish bags, and headed back to the lounge where Megan had claimed the sofa.

Get up.

Why?

Im packing your stuff. Youre leaving right now.

You have no right! This is my brothers flat too! He invited me! Im not going anywhere until Oliver comes home!

I didnt argue. I opened the hallway wardrobe where Megan had dumped her belongings, shuffling our clothes aside, and started stuffing everything sweaters, jeans, that leopardprint dress, grimy socks into the bags. She screamed, Thats cashmere! Youll ruin it! running around trying to grab items from my hands.

Adrenaline gave me strength. In five minutes Id filled three huge black sacks, and her suitcase, left open in the corner, was now overflowing with makeup, shoes, chargers.

Youre sick! Ill call Oliver! she shrieked, snatching for her phone.

I hauled the bags and the suitcase onto the stairwell.

Youre out, too, I told her, pointing at the door.

No way!

Fine, Ill call the police. Ill say an unwanted person is refusing to leave and threatening me. Wheres your address? Moms in Birley? Thats where youll go.

Seeing the resolve in my eyes, Megan finally fled the corridor, grabbing her bag.

Youll regret this! Ill crawl back and beg for forgiveness! Oliver will dump you!

I slammed the door shut, turned the lock twice, and bolted the chain. My heart pounded. I leaned against the door, slid onto the floor as Megans shouts echoed down the landing she was screaming that shed been robbed and left out in the cold, even though it was a warm September night.

I dialed Oliver.

Oliver, I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Your sister is now in the hallway with her things.

What? Iris, what have you done?

She brought a man into our bedroom. They were in our bed, she was in my nightdress.

Silence hung on the line. Oliver swallowed the news.

The bedroom? he repeated.

Yes. If you try to defend her now, you can go straight to your mothers with her. Im changing the locks today.

Im on my way, he said.

An hour later the flat was quiet. Megan, apparently exhausted from shouting, had dragged her bags down to the lift and disappeared. Oliver arrived, pale, and first took Megan and her luggage to a taxi, sending her to his mothers house before heading up.

I sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea, my hands still trembling. Id already tossed the stained bedding into the washing machine on a hightemp cycle and flung the nightdress into the rubbish chute I couldnt wear that after Megan.

Did she leave? I asked, not looking at Oliver.

Yeah, shes at Mums. She called, shouted that were beasts, he replied.

We? I raised an eyebrow.

Just you. I told her not to get involved, Oliver said, taking my hand.

Iris, Im sorry. I was foolish. I thought shed just stay for a week, settle down. I didnt expect the man, the mess Im sorry for everything, he said, his voice soft.

Three weeks of torment isnt just a little, I retorted. You saw the sofa, my things, the constant nagging. You didnt see it?

I saw it, but I was scared of Mum. She always says, Family is sacred, you must help. I just endured, hoping it would fade, he sighed.

Family doesnt pull themselves out of the house on their own, I said. You have to cut the dead weight.

Olivers phone buzzed Mum on the screen. He glanced at it, then at me, and hung up.

Lets just sit in silence for a bit? No TV, no Vicky talk, he suggested.

Sounds good, I agreed.

The next day my motherinlaw, Natalie Peters, turned up on a Saturday, pounding on the door with a determined handbag in hand.

Open up! I know youre home! she shouted through the door.

I cracked the peephole and saw her standing on the landing, eyes blazing.

Mrs Peters, hello, I said, opening the door. If youre here about Megan, theres nothing to discuss.

She stormed in, filling the hallway like a corkscrew. How could you evict that girl? Shes had a trauma! She spent the night crying!

My trauma is having strangers roll around on my bed, I replied sharply. Your daughter crossed every line. She cant behave when shes a guest.

Shes not a guest, shes at her brothers! And youre an intruder too! Natalie snapped. You even gave her my shoes! Who do you think you are?

I paid half the mortgage, the deposit came from selling my grandmothers flat. I have more rights here than your daughter, I shot back.

Youre selfish! she yelled, voice rising to a scream. Youve given her boots, underwear, everything! What will you do now?

Exactly. Human relationships, thats what matters, I said. Megan behaved like a pig for three weeks. Ive had enough. The flat is closed to her.

Oliver stepped out of the kitchen. Mum, enough, he said firmly.

Natalie froze, used to her son either staying silent or agreeing with her.

What do you mean enough? Shell ruin everything if she talks to you, she warned. Were taking her things back the hair dryer, the straightener and youll apologise to my daughter.

I wont apologize, Oliver said, placing a hand on my shoulder. Megan was awful. Iris is right. She has no place here until she learns to respect us.

Youre choosing her over your own blood? Natalie gasped.

Im choosing my wife, my home, my peace. Megans thirtytwo, she can get a room, get a job, meet men. This isnt a dump, Oliver replied.

Natalie gasped, clutching her breath like a fish out of water. Ill never speak to you again! My feet will never tread this floor again!

Fine, Mum, Oliver said calmly. When youre calmer, give us a call. For now, please go. We need our quiet.

She turned and stalked out, slamming the door behind her.

When the house finally settled, I leaned into Oliver.

Thanks, I whispered. I thought youd just stay silent again.

I imagined what would happen if she came back, and I knew I couldnt take another round. I want peace too, he said. Weve both learned to protect our boundaries.

A week later things had cooled. Megan, realizing the free ride was over, patched things up with Vicky. She even texted Oliver: Alright, Im not coming back. Vickys forgiven me. Tell Iris Im sorry, but shes a witch.

I laughed when I read it. I didnt care what she called me. The flat was clean, quiet, no one was stealing my meatballs or wearing my loungewear.

We had to get the sofa professionally cleaned the nailpolish stain was stubborn but looking at the spotless beige fabric, I thought of it as a small price for the lesson learned. No more stay for a week guests. Never again.

Oliver and I grew closer. He finally saw that I wasnt just a convenient housemate, but someone whose limits needed defending. He acted like the head of the household for the first time, saying no even to his own mother.

Just yesterday I bought a new lock, just in case. And that leopardprint robe Megan loved? I tossed it straight into the bin. New life means ditching the old junk and the unwanted energy.

Thanks for listening, love. Hope youve enjoyed the saga. Catch up soon.