I listened. I threw myself into my studies, into
competitions. I barely went home. Only when I
ran out of money. I spent my holidays at the
library, staying until closing time. I barely had a
meal with my family for two years. Mom and
Dad kept giving me these sad looks. Sarah
would complain, “Why is Ashley never home?”
I’d just smile. “Isn’t it great? You have the room
to yourself now.” She’d pout and go quiet. I
didn’t say the other part out loud. “You can
have Mom and Dad too.”
My aloofness must have worried them, because
after I got into my dream high school, they
refused to let me live on campus. I couldn’t
argue with them. But there was no space for
me at home. And they’d constantly try to be…
close. They’d try to talk to me at dinner, mostly
about my grades. High school was harder. I
dropped the competitions and focused on my
classes. It was tough to even stay in the top
<
ten. I was no longer the star student.
Dad would just say, “That’s still very good.” And
Mom would add, pointedly, “Since you’re not
doing competitions anymore, you have more
time for family.”
I’d just keep eating, ignoring the unspoken
request to tutor Sarah. Maybe my independence
in middle school had scared them. They didn’t
dare ask me directly for anything anymore,
especially regarding Sarah. And Sarah, maybe
going through puberty, stopped talking to our
parents and became my shadow.
“Ashley, you won’t believe what happened in
class today…”
“Ashley, should I wear my hair up or down…”
“Ashley, I don’t understand this problem…”
I’d answer maybe one in ten questions.
Otherwise, she’d never leave me alone. Dad
would smile fondly. “Look at my two daughters,
chatting away.”
Mom would scowl. “Can’t you see Sarah’s
trying to be nice and Ashley’s ignoring her?
What kind of attitude is that towards your own
sister?”
I’d just walk away. Some people, you can’t
change them. You just have to stay away. Far,
far away.
Our relationship stayed lukewarm until I graduated high school. I got into NYU.
Hundreds of miles away. Mom and Dad were
ecstatic, bragging to all our relatives. They didn’t know my biggest motivation was to get far, far away from them.
After college, I stayed in New York. Sarah finally got into a local college, found a job nearby. We both got married. She married the son of Mom’s friend. I married Josh, my college sweetheart. We stayed in New York, building our lives. Mom and Dad weren’t thrilled about
my marriage, but they couldn’t stop me. They just kept trying to get me to move back.
A while ago, Mom got sick. Needed surgery. They wanted me to come back and take care of her. I did. I paid for everything, stayed with her around the clock. Sarah visited once, the day of the surgery. Dad reassured her, “Ashley’s here,
<
it’s fine.” Sarah looked a little embarrassed, but
she left.
Dad’s explanation: “Sarah’s not well, she
inherited your mom’s constitution. She can’t
leave her own daughter. So, we have to trouble
you.”
“Don’t her husband and in–laws help?” I asked. Mom, from her hospital bed, bristled. “Can anyone compare to a mother’s hard work? I knew it, you think it’s unfair that you’re here alone. Well, think about how much healthier and
smarter you’ve always been than Sarah. Is that
fair?”
I didn’t reply, just kept peeling her apple.
“Honey, the doctor said you need to rest,” Dad
said to Mom. She finally shut up.
I put the apple on her bedside table. “I used all
my vacation days. My boss won’t approve any
more time off. The doctor said you’re
recovering well, you don’t need someone
overnight. I’ve hired a private nurse. If that’s not
good enough, maybe you should ask your other
daughter if she’s willing to fulfill some of her
<
filial duties.” Then, I left.
I heard Mom yelling, “That ungrateful girl! She
took a month off to take care of her mother–in-
law! And now, after a few days, she abandons
her own mother!”
I scoffed. It wasn’t the same. When I had Ethan,
Mom and Dad visited for an hour, gave us a
measly $500, and left. I’d had a C–section, I
could barely sit up. “I thought you were staying
to help with the baby?” I’d asked.
Dad mumbled, “Sarah’s daughter has a bad
cough. Your mom’s worried it might turn into
pneumonia. So…we have to rely on our son–in-
law.”
Josh, being Josh, just said, “Don’t worry, I’ll
take care of Ashley and the baby.”
I was furious. I’d wanted to hire a postpartum
doula, but they’d insisted my own family had to
help. They’d bombarded me with calls, and I,
exhausted and not wanting a stranger in the
house, gave in. And now, because of Sarah’s
daughter, I’d been abandoned again. Sarah was
more important. Her daughter was more
<
important. I closed my eyes, swallowing my
tears.
