The Succession Gala They Forgot Was Mine Too

The gala had barely ended when my parents hurriedly sent Beth off to Naples, saying they wanted her to settle in before taking up her new post.

Before they left, my mother carefully checked everything off a list with the household staff.

Besides clothes, jewelry, and toiletries, they had bought her piles of brand-new things. They had even bought her a fully staffed villa in Naples to make sure she would be comfortable.

The hall was so packed with her belongings that there was barely room to walk. I stood in a corner with my backpack over my shoulder.

My mother brushed past me. "Don't just stand there. Move. Your sister might forget something because of you."

I didn't say anything.

After more than twenty years, everything I owned still fit in a single backpack.

"Can the driver take me first? My flight leaves at two."

My mother acted as though she hadn't heard me. She continued checking Beth's makeup.

"You have dinners to attend and important people to meet as soon as you arrive. Book a stylist in advance."

The father had the box moved onto the vehicle and glanced at his watch and said to me, "Why are you in such a hurry? You still have plenty of time and won't be late."

The mother chimed in, "Your sister hasn't even finished packing her things. The whole family should think of each other."

I said nothing more.

My younger sister has always been favored by her parents since childhood. After all, her strengths combined all the virtues of her parents.

Her academic performance has consistently ranked among the top in the college. She is intelligent and lovely. The elders of the family especially like her. Therefore, the parents' attention is always focused on her.

Beth's first-class ticket had been booked before the succession gala. Her villa in Naples had been purchased and renovated long ago.

My parents planned to go with her and help her settle in early.

They would introduce her to the right people so she could establish herself there.

Yet from start to finish, no one asked where I was going. They didn't know what job the family had assigned me. All they knew was that it was in Milan.

No one even asked how I planned to get there.

Once Beth's luggage was loaded into the car, my father opened the rear door for her.

My mother went back inside for her bag. As she put on her shoes, she looked up at me. "The flowers need watering, and remember to take your sister's clothes to the cleaners. Remember to have meals at home by yourself. Do whatever you want to eat by yourself.We don't have time. Forget about you for now."

With that, she hurried out to the car.

The rear window rolled down. From the doorway, I watched Beth smile sweetly and wave. "We are leaving now, Monica."

I forced a smile back.

Then I stood there and watched the car disappear down the drive.

The vast estate fell silent.

I stood on the steps and looked over the flower beds: my father's olive tree, my mother's hydrangeas, and Beth's roses, all sprouting new growth.

Even the garden table had only three chairs.

The sight brought back a memory from a few years earlier.

School had closed for vacation, and my roommates had locked me out. They shoved me into the pool and refused to let me back into the dorm.

With nowhere else to go, I returned home in soaking clothes.

I found the three of them having afternoon tea in the garden.

I walked into their peaceful afternoon, dripping wet. Beth's favorite cake sat on the table.

One look at their faces told me I didn't belong there.

All three looked annoyed.

My father frowned. "Why did you not call before coming home?"

The mother said, "You came back unexpectedly. We had reserved a meal for three people for tonight. What are we supposed to do?"

Beth chimed in. "Monica, you should have called first. Showing up like this puts Mom and Dad in an awkward position, doesn't it?"

I frowned at the absurdity of it.

No one asked whether I had eaten or why I had come home. No one asked why my clothes were soaked.

To them, my coming home was nothing but an inconvenience.