preplanned schedule had to be rearranged.
They were scowling, making veiled criticisms.
I couldn’t argue, and I had to hold back the
tears that wanted to fall from my eyes.
Later, I saw the photos on Brittany’s social
media.
Mom and Dad were playing with her at an
amusement park. She was on the carousel,
laughing happily, with her fingers up in a
peace sign.
<
Was that what depression looked like?
Why did she conveniently become depressed
every time I needed my parents?
The truly depressed one was me!
The Room in the Hallway
It was getting late, and everyone was going to
bed.
Our house had three bedrooms.
Mom and Dad had one, Kevin had one, and
Brittany had one.
And I? I had to sleep in a small, makeshift
room in the hallway, separated by a few
sheets.
There was barely any space for my tiny bed,
and it was where I spent my awkward years.
Sometimes it was difficult even to change.
I protested. I wanted my own room, or if that
was too much, I could share with Brittany.
Two girls sharing a room was very logical,
and her room was the largest in the house. It
was big enough for two beds.
But Brittany didn’t want to share. She said I
wasn’t worthy of living with her.
I cried and protested.
Why wasn’t I worthy?
I was a daughter of this family too.
<
But my parents would never stand up for me.
All they did was dote on my sister.
They stubbornly pushed me into that little
room, ignoring my cries of pain.
They were heartbroken by my sister’s tears.
My tears, on the other hand, only annoyed
them!
They’d say, “You’re the older sister. You
should be grateful and understanding, okay?”
The same old words, over and over.
Why was I the only one expected to
understand?
Why was it only me?
Was I so unimportant to them?
I was hurt and tried to find a bit of validation,
so one day I intentionally didn’t go home after
school.
I hid in a park not far from our house, hoping
my parents would come find me, worried.
But I waited and waited. The sun went down,
the moon rose.
Finally, a middle–aged woman ran over, out of
breath.
She hugged her daughter tight, as if holding a
long–lost treasure.
She said, “Don’t be afraid, baby. Mommy is
11
く
The little girl hugged her mother’s neck,
completely dependent and happy.
I was so envious.
I thought that as long as my parents came
looking for me, I would be happy, even if they
beat me to a pulp.
But they never came.
They didn’t even call.
I wiped the tears from my eyes, and
eventually, I just went home myself.
My family was watching a movie and having
dinner, cheerful and happy.
They didn’t even look at me
Г
They didn’t even look at me.
I called out, dejected: “Mom!”
She turned to me, full of sarcasm. “You know
how to come home, huh? Why didn’t you just
die out there?”
My heart felt as if it was pierced with a sharp
arrow.
Mom, now I really did die out there.
Are you happy?
The Wedding Day
Thanksgiving passed, and Brittany’s wedding
day soon came.
<
My parents wanted to make a big deal out of
- it. They invited a lot of people. The whole
hotel lobby was crowded with people.
The relatives were chatting away, offering
congratulations, while also bragging about
their kids.
“I hear the son–in–law works at a big tech
company, makes like 20k a month. Brittany
sure has good taste!”
“Honey, is that gold bracelet on your wrist,
did your son–in–law get it for you?”
Many looked over in envy.
Mom was dazed as she touched the bracelet,
a little awkward.
Mom was dazed as she touched the bracelet,
a little awkward.
I had bought her the bracelet.
Last Mother’s Day, I listened to my therapist
and tried to mend our relationship.
I bought this bracelet, hoping to make my
mom happy.
But she accepted it and just complained
about me wasting money, not a trace of joy.
One relative said, “Of all the kids in our
generation, your eldest daughter, Mandy, is
the most promising. She has a Master’s,
works in public service, she’s capable and
works hard! You’re very lucky.”
Г
Mom’s grip on the gold bracelet tightened,
and her eyes glazed over a little.
She probably had finally remembered I
existed.
Brittany suddenly looked sad. “My sister is
indeed amazing, but she is never home. She didn’t even come back for Thanksgiving, nor for my wedding…‘
دو
She trailed off, looking as if she had been
hurt.
Mom’s face went cold. She took off the gold
bracelet and put it back in her bag.
“Let’s not mention that unfilial thing. It’s a
great day today, let’s eat and enjoy
Г
Brittany took a sip of her drink, a subtle smile
playing on her lips.
See, she always had ways to destroy every
chance I had of winning my mom over.
When I was little, my mom wasn’t that bad to
- me.
After all, I had spent 10 months in her womb. I
was connected to her by blood.
I remember one of my birthdays, my mom told
me she was going to give me a gift.
I waited eagerly all morning.
Mom smiled and pulled out a little skirt:
“What do you think? Do you like it?”
く
A cute pleated pink skirt. What little girl
wouldn’t love that?
Brittany had so many, and I finally got my first
one.
I was overjoyed, hugging the skirt, twirling
around.
“Thank you, Mom. I love you so much!”
I expressed my feelings with so much.
passion.
Mom’s eyes unknowingly turned red. She
touched my cheek with guilt.
“You’re so well–behaved, Mandy. Next
birthday, I will get you another one.”
Г
I nodded hard, my cheeks flushed with joy.
But then Brittany walked over, and she just
said quietly:
“My sister is so lucky. I wonder if our other
sister would also have received such a pretty
skirt if she had survived.”
Mom’s eyes instantly changed from
tenderness to cold resentment.
She snatched the little skirt and cut it to
pieces with scissors.
“Your sister lost her life, and you dare to
wear new clothes? What gives you the right?”
The fabric fell to the ground, and I wailed with
<
pain.
“No, Mom, please don’t, please don’t cut it!”
But it was useless.
The skirt was cut to shreds, and thrown at my
face.
I held it in my arms, like I was holding my own
broken self.
Brittany walked over and smiled at me, a
nasty smile.
I asked her, tears in my eyes, why are you
doing this to me?
She just smiled and answered while she
licked her lollipop: “Because I don’t like you. I
“Mom and Dad, and Kevin. I don’t want you
to steal an ounce of their love!”
From then on, they wouldn’t call me when
they went out to play, the kids‘ gifts never
included me, and even in family photos, they
cut me out.
As she had wished, I received no love from
my family.
I became hysterical and angry like a crazy
person and then I’d cry in my bed at night.
I’d tried to be a people–pleaser, put on a
smile, and worked for them like a servant.
I only wanted a little bit of their attention.
little
Even just a little.
