They Bled Her Dry, So She Burned It All Down

My brother's wife had a son.

Then she fired all five of the postpartum nurses I'd hired for her, one after another.

And insisted, no matter what, that I come take care of her myself.

She even used my dead mother against me.

"Shouldn't you be here caring for me in your mother's place?"

So the moment I showed up, she started picking fights.

"Why is this footbath water so cold? Are you trying to give me a lifelong illness?"

"Why is the rice so dry tonight? Are you trying to choke me to death?"

"You used to look down on me because you had money. Now you're jealous I gave birth to a son, aren't you?"

My brother, Terry Perry, piled on right beside her,

accusing me of having it out for his wife.

Then it hit me.

Arlene Chavez was using her postpartum recovery on purpose, using it as a weapon to grind me down.

Well, I wasn't going to play along.

……

But she refused to let me leave.

"No. The baby's one-month party is in a couple of days. You have to handle all of it!"

I almost laughed from anger.

Before, when she wanted money or things from me, at least she asked with some humility.

Now she just wanted to reach out and grab whatever she pleased?

"Throw the party yourselves. I'm out of it!"

I turned to go.

Terry grabbed my arm.

"Sis, don't be so stingy, come on!"

"You're not getting married, not having kids anyway. So down the road, isn't your company and everything you own all going to my son?"

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

That really did make me laugh.

Over the years, everything I'd given the two of them added up to well over five hundred grand.

Even their house and their car, I bought.

And still their appetite had no bottom.

"Terry, if that's really how you think—"

"I'd sooner donate every last cent than leave you two a single penny!"

That stopped him cold.

He and Arlene traded looks.

"Okay, okay, sis, I misspoke!"

Terry made a show of slapping himself on the mouth.

Arlene pulled it back a notch too.

"Fine. We'll set the one-month party aside for now."

"But you still have to help out these next few days, until my parents get here."

Just then the baby started crying.

Arlene shoved him straight into my arms.

"He's crying. Hurry up and soothe him!"

I let out a soft sigh.

"Then I'm leaving tomorrow. I'll get a nurse to take over first."

After that I was on my feet, busy, until late into the night.

That was when I noticed their bedroom windows were shut tight.

The room was stifling.

So I cracked one window open a little to let some air move through.

Arlene woke with a start and blew up at me.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"My mom said you can't be exposed to a draft during postpartum recovery!"

I explained patiently: "A little fresh air won't hurt. Besides, your recovery period is almost over."

The high that day had hit ninety-nine degrees.

She wouldn't let anyone turn on the AC, and she wouldn't let a window open either.

The room had been a steamer all day.

"What do you mean, won't hurt? Delia Perry, you're doing this to me on purpose!"

"If I end up with a lifelong illness, I will never be done with you!"

Arlene was hysterical, shaking with rage.

And that was when I realized something was wrong with the baby.

Eyes squeezed shut, face flushed red, hair soaked with sweat.

I took his temperature. A hundred and four.

"This is all your fault!"

"Why don't you just drop dead!"

Arlene only got more worked up.

She lunged, clawing for my face.

I shoved her back with one hand.

"Save your breath. Getting this baby help is what matters!"

That stunned her, and she finally went quiet.

I grabbed our things at once.

Terry and I rushed the baby to the hospital.

The diagnosis was severe heatstroke.

After a round of treatment, his condition finally stabilized.

They kept him for observation.

Terry, though, was in a hurry to get home and look after his wife.