“I know we haven’t been fair to you. I do know that. But Mom is set in her ways, and Patrick really does need help.”
“Then you and Mom can help him. That’s your choice. But I’m done being the family ATM of emotional labor and practical support. I’m done being invisible until you need something.”
“What are we supposed to do about this weekend? David and I were counting on you to watch the kids.”
The entitlement was breathtaking. Even now, after everything, she could not see past her own needs.
“You’ll figure it out. Hire a babysitter. Cancel your plans. Ask Patrick to contribute, since you’re doing so much to make sure he inherits everything. I don’t care what you do, but it won’t involve me.”
Julia’s youngest started crying, a high-pitched wail that made my head hurt. She picked him up and bounced him absently, her attention still fixed on me.
“If you don’t help us this weekend, Mom is going to be so disappointed. She might cut you out completely.”
“She already has. Or did you miss the part where she left me her old books?”
“That’s just money. She still loves you.”
“Love is not just a word, Julia. It’s actions. It’s treating people like they matter. When has Mom’s love for me ever looked like anything more than expecting me to be convenient?”
Julia stood, gathering her children with the efficiency of long practice.
“I think you’re being selfish and short-sighted. Family is forever, Amy. Jobs and friends come and go, but family is what matters in the end.”
“Then maybe you should all try acting like family instead of like people who keep me around for utility purposes.”
She herded her kids toward the door, her face tight with anger.
“When you’re alone and miserable in twenty years, don’t come crying to us. You made this choice.”
“I did, and I’m good with it.”
After they left, I locked the door and leaned against it, my heart pounding. The confrontation had been both awful and necessary. I had said things I had thought for years but never spoken aloud. The truth was out now, hanging in the air like smoke.
I checked the time. Eight thirty. My flight was in less than five hours. I needed to finish getting ready, but first I needed to calm down.
I made more coffee and sat on my couch where Julia’s children had been moments before. The television was still on, playing some cartoon about talking animals. I turned it off and sat in the silence.
My hands were shaking slightly. Confrontation had never been my strength. I preferred to avoid conflict, to smooth things over, to keep the peace. But peace at what cost? I had been keeping the peace my entire life, and all it had earned me was a lifetime of being overlooked.
I was in the shower when my doorbell rang again.
I almost ignored it, assuming Julia had come back for round two, but curiosity won out. I wrapped myself in a robe and checked the peephole.
Patrick stood there looking annoyed. His wife, Melissa, was with him, holding their two kids. Unlike Julia, he did not bother ringing again. He pulled out his phone and started texting, probably to me, not realizing my phone was still powered down in my desk drawer.
I opened the door.
“What do you want, Patrick?”
He looked up, startled.
“Amy, you couldn’t answer your phone like a normal person?”
“My phone is off. I told you all not to contact me.”
“Yeah, well, we need to talk about this weekend. Julia said you refused to help.”
“That’s correct.”
Melissa shifted the toddler on her hip. She was a striking woman with dark hair and sharp features, always immaculately dressed, even when wrangling two small children. I had never understood what she saw in my brother beyond his boyish charm, which wore thin after about five minutes of conversation.
“Amy,” Melissa said, “I know there’s family drama happening, but the kids were really looking forward to spending time with you. Can’t you put aside whatever issue you’re having and just help us out this once?”
This once.
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