Chapter 4

The following day, the house filled up with relatives.

They'd heard Tyler had a girlfriend, and they'd come specially to help Mom and Dad strategize.

Serena sat in the living room with them, making conversation.

I was the only one in the kitchen.

It was seventy-seven degrees in the house, and I sweated straight through my shirt anyway.

I carried out the last dish and stood at the edge of the table without moving.

Mom frowned and turned to look at me.

"Sit down and eat. What are you standing there for?"

I scanned the table and asked, flatly, "Eat what?"

"There's plenty of rice left, isn't there? Stir some sauce into it."

Dad reached over and dropped the last shrimp into Tyler's bowl, then tossed a criticism my way.

"Your brother's blood sugar crashes easily. Get the food out faster next time."

My hands shook where they gripped my apron.

One hour. Ten people. Twelve dishes.

How much faster was I supposed to be?

And what had they left me?

Dirty plates and scraps.

Why?

Why had not one of them thought of me?

I untied my apron. My voice came out quiet.

"I'm not eating."

Tyler spoke up. "Adrian, I want some watermelon."

Mom backed him up without hesitation. "Well, if you're not eating, go cut a plate of watermelon."

Then she turned away and went back to briefing the relatives on how to handle Tyler's girlfriend when she arrived.

Nobody looked at me.

Nobody wondered whether I was hungry.

I went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

The cold air hit my face and my eyes went hot.

I cut the watermelon, got a spoon, and dug out a bite from the very center.

It was sweet. It was cold.

Mom's voice carried in from the living room.

"Adrian Bennett, remember to clear the table. And don't forget your brother's watermelon."

By the time she finished the sentence, I'd swallowed the last of it.

I washed my hands, wiped my mouth, and walked slowly out to the living room.

I looked at Mom and spaced the words out.

"There's no watermelon left."

Serena's face creased in confusion. "How can there be none? I bought that specifically for Tyler."

I kept my voice soft.

"I ate it."

The room went silent. Every one of them stared at me.

Then Tyler exploded. "That's the one thing I want after dinner. Why wouldn't you save me any?"

I looked at him without any expression at all.

"What about me? Which one of you saved me anything?"

A second later, the relatives began saying their goodbyes.

"Robert, something's come up at home. We'd better head out."

"Same here, actually."

"We'll get going."

They scattered.

Mom's face went red with fury.

"Adrian Bennett! You're all grown up now, is that it? Too big for us? I asked you to cook one meal and suddenly you're the injured party?"

"What about me? Thirty-odd years of shopping and cooking for the lot of you. Did I ever get to be the injured party?"

There it was again.

It was always this. The moment I said I was unhappy, or the moment I upset her, she climbed onto the moral high ground of motherhood and pointed down at me.

And I never had anything to say back.

But I didn't want to live that way anymore.

"Yes. I am the injured party."

My voice rose, clear and steady.

"Mom, did you shop and cook only for me? Did Dad not eat? Did Serena and Tyler not eat?"

"I learned to cook for one person. Not for anybody else. For you. So you wouldn't have to work so hard."

"So why, after all of it, am I not even worth a slice of watermelon?"

I shook my head and took a step back, then another.

"I wish I hadn't been born to you at all."