I guessed I could stay longer.
Life fell into a routine after that. I went to work, came home, paid the bills, and Mom made sure dinner was always on the table.
It seemed okay, manageable even, until last weekend, when my sister Sarah showed up with her husband Mike and their kids, Emma and Lucas.
The change in my parents was like someone had flipped a switch.
“Oh, my precious angels,” Mom cooed, scooping up four-year-old Emma while Dad swung Lucas onto his shoulders. “Sarah, darling, you look wonderful. How’s everything going? Tell us all about what you’ve been up to.”
I stood in the doorway, watching as my parents fawned over their eldest daughter and her perfect little family.
They hung on her every word, asking for details about the most mundane things—how her garden was doing, what new words Lucas had learned, how her book club was going.
They’d never shown that kind of interest in my life, not even when I made Dean’s List or won the business school’s leadership award.
“Anna, be a dear and put on some coffee,” Mom called over her shoulder, not even looking my way as she bounced Lucas on her knee.
Standing in the kitchen that day, listening to my family’s laughter from the living room, I couldn’t help but think back to how things had always been.
Sarah, seven years my senior, had always been the star of our family show, while I was relegated to the role of supporting cast.
I remembered sitting at the same kitchen table when I was eleven, showing Mom my straight-A report card. She barely glanced at it before returning to her conversation with Sarah about college applications.
“That’s nice, Anna,” she’d said absently, waving me away. “Sarah, honey, which universities are your top choices?”
Those years were all about Sarah’s high school achievements. Every dinner conversation revolved around her grades, her extracurriculars, her college prep.
I’d sit there quietly eating my peas while Mom and Dad hung on Sarah’s every word about her AP classes and college tours.
Everything changed even more dramatically when Sarah got accepted to Brighton University. I was eleven at the time, and I still remember that dinner conversation like it was yesterday.
“We’re so proud of you, sweetheart,” Mom had exclaimed, tears in her eyes. “We’ll make it work, won’t we, Robert?”
