I didn’t reply. I pulled away and walked out. I heard him sigh behind me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t understand. I would never understand.
And I didn’t want to. The house felt cold. I
shivered. It wasn’t a home anymore. Later, realized that what I felt was despair.
My phone rang again, pulling me back to the
present. It was Josh, my husband. I answered
quickly. “Hey, what’s up?”
He sounded amused. “Your mom called. Said
you stormed out.”
I was even angrier now. “Did she tell you I was being influenced by you again?”
He chuckled. “In one ear and out the other. I
just wondered what got you so riled up. Ethan was saying, ‘Mom’s always so gentle, why would she be angry?“”
I was silent. Then, hesitantly, I said, “My
period’s late. I went to the doctor this morning. I’m… I’m a month pregnant.”
He went silent, then whooped with joy, so loud I jumped. He hung up and immediately video
called.
There they were, father and son, grinning like fools in matching T–shirts. “I’m gonna be a big brother!” Ethan yelled, pumping his fist.
“It was… a surprise,” I stammered. “I’m not
sure yet…”
“A surprise is still a blessing!” Josh cut in.
“We’re meant to have another baby!”
<
I regretted telling him so soon. But we’d always
been close, I couldn’t keep it from him. He must
have seen my hesitation, his smile faltered. “Are
you okay? Should I come home? I can cut the
trip short.”
Ethan, bless his heart, nodded seriously. “Come home, Daddy!”
I laughed. “Well, you’ll have to talk to your
sister. We’re on vacation with her family,
remember?”
Unlike my family, Josh and his sister were
close. Her daughter was only two years younger than Ethan, and they spent every summer
together. I’d missed this trip because of Mom’s 50th birthday.
I sighed. I wasn’t against having another child. Ethan always wanted a sibling. He often felt lonely. But me? I was terrified of becoming my mother. Of not being able to love both my
children equally. The scars from my childhood ran deep.
After the fight with Dad, I’d withdrawn. I barely
spoke to anyone at home. Even when Sarah,
<
sharing my room, tried to talk to me, I’d brush
her off. At dinner, even when Dad tried to start
conversations, I just ate silently. And Mom? I
avoided her like the plague. She’d keep giving
me these looks, like she wanted to say
something, but then she’d just scowl when I
ignored her.
One day, when Sarah was out, the dining table
was covered in McDonald’s. Chicken nuggets,
―
fries, McChicken sandwiches the works.
Mom, with a rare smile, gestured me over.
“Your dad and I got this just for you. Come
eat.”
Just for me? They didn’t know McDonald’s was
the last thing I wanted to see. I picked up a fry,
not eating it, just staring at them warily.
Dad said cheerfully, “Sarah’s starting high
school soon. You know her grades… we
thought you could help her, tutor her a bit.”
I dropped the fry. I pulled a sheet of paper from
my backpack. “I can’t. I applied to live on
campus.”
Dad looked shocked. “The school’s so close.
>
Why do you want to live there?”
“We have night classes starting in sophomore
year. We get out at 9 pm. It’s dark. Who’s
going to pick me up?”
They were silent. Dad looked at Mom, as if
hoping she’d volunteer. She just pressed her
lips together. I already knew the answer. Dad
worked late, traveled often. It wasn’t feasible.
And Mom? She’d never leave Sarah alone at
night.
Dad sighed and signed the permission slip. I
thought sighing was his main contribution to
this family, besides paying the bills.
“What about summer? Winter break? You can
tutor her then,” Mom said.
“I’m busy. The school wants me to join the math competition team. We have classes during the breaks.” That part wasn’t entirely true. I’d sought out those extra classes myself. Any excuse to be away from home. To save myself. They didn’t know that after that second slap, I couldn’t sleep. My hair was falling out. I kept asking myself, why? Why did they pity Sarah,
<
the sick, struggling one, and ignore me, the
healthy, successful one? Did you have to be
weak to be loved? Should I get sick too? I
fantasized about being seriously ill, close to
death. Would Mom finally remember I was once
her precious baby? Would she finally love me
like she loved Sarah?
I obsessed over it. My grades plummeted. I was
a zombie at school. Thankfully, my homeroom
teacher noticed. She talked to me for hours.
Finally, she hugged me. “Ashley, you’re one of
my brightest students. Every parent in this class
wishes they had a daughter like you. Your
parents are wrong in how they treat you and
your sister. But you can’t change them. They think they love you, that you’re just being
ungrateful. Don’t let their mistakes define you. Don’t chase after affection that isn’t freely given. Whether it’s family, friends, or, later, romantic love. Accept what is. Focus on
yourself. Be a good student. Prepare for your future. When you’re ready, good relationships will come into your life. And even if they don’t,
く
you’ll have a successful career, you’ll be
independent, and you’ll be better off than
most.”
