I told my sister she could leave our pottery business, then acted surprised when she wanted her money back.<\/p>\n
I know that sounds bad. It was bad. I still had a reason in my head at the time, and that\u2019s the part I\u2019m ashamed of, because I knew my reason wasn\u2019t the same as being right.<\/p>\n
My sister Bonnie and I rented a small workshop in a river town in southern Illinois. We\u2019d been making pots together for five years. I worked the sales table at weekend markets and answered most of the online messages. Bonnie made more of the pieces, handled the kiln, and fixed things when they broke. At least that\u2019s how I\u2019d have described it if anyone had asked. I didn\u2019t say it out loud like that. I called myself the business side.<\/p>\n
We did good work. People came back for our blue bowls, and there was a lady who bought a mug every Christmas because she said ours fit her hand just right. Bonnie would remember what glaze she liked. I remembered the price.<\/p>\n
That was the split, except I slowly started acting like one half counted more.<\/span><\/p>\n The first time Bonnie asked to change our opening hours, I told her we couldn\u2019t close early on Thursdays because I\u2019d already posted the hours online. She said she had to pick up her grandson that afternoon. I said I understood, but the post was up. She changed her plans and came in anyway.<\/p>\n I remember that because she brought a bag of those little orange crackers she liked and ate them standing over the sink. The sink had been leaking for months. She was the one who fixed it the next week.<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t know she was keeping track yet.<\/p>\n When the kiln started acting up, Bonnie paid for a new heating element, then for the electrician who said the wiring needed work. I thanked her. I also said we\u2019d settle up after the holiday market, when we knew what we\u2019d made. I said that kind of thing a lot. It sounded fair when I said it fast.<\/p>\n The holiday market did well. I paid myself back for the table fee and supplies I\u2019d bought, then put the rest toward rent and clay. Bonnie didn\u2019t argue. I took her quiet as agreement because it was easier than asking.<\/p>\n By spring, she asked me to sit down and talk about the lease.<\/p>\n She said, \u201cI want my name off it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019d been pricing a new display shelf, and I still had my phone in my hand. \u201cAre you quitting?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t say that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, what does it mean, then?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt means I\u2019m tired of being responsible for this place and asking permission to change the hours.\u201d<\/p>\n I laughed a little. Not because it was funny. Because I felt accused and wanted to make it sound smaller.<\/p>\n \u201cI run the sales table,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m here all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n Bonnie rubbed the side of her thumb with her other hand. She does that when she\u2019s trying not to get mad. \u201cI paid for the kiln. I fixed the sink. I pay half the rent. And I still need your permission to close at three.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n I started to say the kiln was a business expense, which was true. I stopped because she\u2019d paid for it herself, which was also true.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you want to close the business?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo. I want us to decide together if you\u2019re buying my share or if we\u2019re changing the agreement.\u201d<\/p>\n That should have been the part where I listened. Instead I felt that hot, stupid embarrassment of being called out in a place I thought of as mine. My name was on the online store. I handled the customers. I\u2019d put in plenty of unpaid hours, I told myself. Bonnie knew that.<\/p>\n I said, \u201cFine. We\u2019ll meet with the landlord and look at the numbers.\u201d<\/p>\n She said, \u201cBefore that, list every repair I covered.\u201d<\/p>\n I heard it as a challenge. I also heard it as a chance to prove she was overstating things. So I said yes.<\/p>\n At home, I opened the bank app and searched payments. I made a spreadsheet on my laptop, mostly so I could show that the numbers were messy and nobody had been keeping score. Then I found the receipts Bonnie had sent me over the years. Some were in text messages. One was a photo of a hardware store receipt with her thumb over the total.<\/p>\n I could have guessed. Instead I added them up.<\/p>\n The kiln was the biggest line. The electrician was next. Then the sink parts, the plumber\u2019s visit, two shelves she\u2019d built, and a replacement wheel after mine started wobbling. There were smaller things I\u2019d forgotten: a new shop vac filter, a lock, bags of clay she\u2019d bought when I was short on cash.<\/p>\n The total was $8,416.<\/span><\/p>\n I checked it twice. Then I checked the payments I\u2019d sent her. There was one transfer for $300, marked \u201ckiln,\u201d and another for $175 because I\u2019d remembered the electrician\u2019s call. Together, $475.<\/p>\n I sat at the kitchen table with that number open on my screen. My first thought was that it didn\u2019t include my time.<\/span> I hate admitting that, but it was the first thought. I was already looking for a way to make the list less true.<\/p>\n Then I remembered Bonnie in the workshop, lifting the shop vac hose with one hand while she held the receipt in the other, asking if I wanted the paper or a photo. I\u2019d said, \u201cJust text it to me.\u201d I never followed up.<\/p>\n I wanted the list, but I didn\u2019t want to see it.<\/span><\/p>\n I brought the spreadsheet to the workshop the next afternoon. Bonnie was trimming a mug, and I set my laptop down far enough from the clay that she wouldn\u2019t have to move her tools.<\/p>\n \u201cI got the numbers,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n She wiped her hands on a towel. \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not saying you didn\u2019t pay these. I\u2019m just saying the business also owes for my time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know you work hard.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019d expected her to argue. That answer made me feel worse.<\/p>\n I tapped the screen. \u201cIt comes to $8,416.\u201d<\/p>\n Bonnie looked at the total, not at me. \u201cAnd you paid me $475.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you?\u201d<\/p>\n I started explaining that some of the supplies had been for both of us, and I\u2019d covered rent when she was sick last winter, and I\u2019d spent whole Saturdays at markets. All of that was true. None of it changed the number on the screen.<\/p>\n She said, \u201cI\u2019m not asking you to pretend you didn\u2019t work.\u201d<\/p>\n I said, \u201cI\u2019m not pretending you didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen why do I have to ask before I can change the hours?\u201d<\/p>\n I had an answer ready. I\u2019d posted the schedule. Customers expected us to be open. It would look unprofessional. I had said all of that before. In that room, with the repair list between us, it sounded like I was saying my choices counted as the business and hers counted as a request.<\/p>\n I closed the laptop.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you wanted out,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cI want a say.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n That was the sentence I\u2019d been avoiding. I\u2019d turned her asking for a say into her wanting to leave because it let me picture myself as the one being abandoned.<\/span> It kept me from asking what I\u2019d done to make staying feel like that.<\/p>\n We still met with the landlord. I almost canceled the morning of. I told Bonnie I had a headache, which wasn\u2019t a lie exactly, but it wasn\u2019t why I wanted to stay home. She said we could reschedule. I heard her being polite and knew I was making her do one more thing for me.<\/p>\n So I went.<\/p>\n The landlord, Mr. Hanley, had us sit at his little desk with the rent ledger open. He said Bonnie could come off the lease if I qualified on my own, but he\u2019d need a new lease and a deposit. I didn\u2019t. Not without using most of the money I\u2019d saved for replacing my car.<\/p>\n I said, \u201cI can\u2019t take the whole lease right now.\u201d<\/p>\n Bonnie nodded. \u201cThen we need another plan.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019d been hoping she\u2019d soften once we got there. She didn\u2019t. But she wasn\u2019t trying to punish me. She said she wanted the business to work, just not with one person making decisions and the other person carrying bills.<\/p>\n We talked through the options. I could buy her share over time, or we could keep working together and put the rules in writing. We agreed to split the unpaid repair costs from future profits before taking owner draws.<\/span> We also agreed that either of us could change the hours, as long as we both had a chance to talk it through first. The landlord let us renew the lease in both names.<\/p>\n It wasn\u2019t a clean fix. I couldn\u2019t repay $7,941 right then. Bonnie didn\u2019t ask me to. She said she wanted the number written down so neither of us could pretend it hadn\u2019t happened.<\/p>\n I signed the new agreement at the workshop a few days later. Bonnie signed under me. I\u2019d brought the old key ring, the one with the little brass tag that said \u201cshop\u201d in my handwriting. She asked if I wanted her key back.<\/p>\n I said, \u201cNo. Keep it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n She didn\u2019t thank me. She put it in her pocket.<\/p>\n We haven\u2019t gone back to how we were. I still handle the sales table. Bonnie still makes most of the pots. But she picked the Thursday hours last week, and I didn\u2019t change the post without asking her.<\/span> That should be ordinary. It took me too long to get there.<\/p>\n The door was open while we signed, because the latch sticks unless you pull it shut hard. Bonnie left before I did. She didn\u2019t close it behind her, and I let it stay open.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n