Chapter 3

I stood in the hallway, water dripping from my hair onto my bare feet.

So that was what made me "different."

It wasn't that I was braver, or that Mom had more faith in me. She simply didn't think I needed anyone looking out for me.

I went back to my tiny bedroom, which had been converted from a storage room, and checked my phone. My boss had emailed me that afternoon.

The company's Norham branch needed someone to lead a project. It came with a promotion and required relocating for at least two years. He wanted to know if I was interested.

I'd been planning to turn it down.

Mom had high blood pressure, Lily would be starting college soon, and somehow it always seemed as though this family couldn't function without me.

Now I opened the email again and typed my reply.

[I accept the transfer. I can start Monday.]

Once it went through, my phone returned to the home screen.

June 17, my twenty-sixth birthday.

I hadn't made a birthday wish, but I had finally made a decision for myself.

The next morning, I started packing.

After twenty-six years in this house, everything that was truly mine fit into a single twenty-four-inch suitcase: three work outfits, two pairs of shoes, a few certificates, and an old laptop.

At the very back of my closet was a metal cookie tin. Inside was a stack of old receipts.

Lily's elementary school activities. Her tutoring in middle school. Her high school class trips. The deposits from both times Mom had been hospitalized.

I'd always thought I kept them as a reminder that no matter how hard things had gotten, we'd made it through together as a family.

Looking at them now, they felt more like a record of everything I'd done, one no one had asked for and no one had ever acknowledged.

I dumped the receipts into a trash bag and kept only an old photograph of Dad.

He was holding me with one arm and Lily, who had only just learned to walk, by the hand. Mom had dressed us in matching red sweaters.

I couldn't remember when there had stopped being two of everything.

Mom pushed open my door and saw the suitcase lying open.

"Business trip?"

"I'm transferring to Norham."

She didn't seem to register the difference between a transfer and a business trip. Instead, she looked through the clothes in my suitcase.

"How long will you be gone? Lily's school has a college counseling fee due next week. Remember to send me the money when you get paid."

"It's not a few days. I'll be gone at least two years."

Her hand stopped.

I waited for her to ask where Norham was, where I'd be living, or when I'd be coming home.

Instead, the first thing she said was, "Then who's going to take care of everything here?"

Not what was I going to do.

What were they going to do without me?

I folded the last shirt and placed it in the suitcase. "Put the utilities on your own card. Lily's an adult now. The two of you can figure out her expenses together."

Mom recoiled as if I'd insulted her.

"What is this supposed to mean? You're turning your back on your whole family over a dress?"

"It's not about the dress."

"Then what is it about?"

I looked at her and suddenly had no idea where to begin.

Should I begin with the time Lily broke my piano trophy when I was eight and Mom told me she was still little? Or when I was sixteen, and there was only enough money left in Dad's college fund for one of us to take extra classes, so Mom made me give mine up?

Or should I start with last night's dinner, when there hadn't even been a plate for me?

There were too many things.

None of them seemed big enough to leave home over on its own. But little by little, those small things had inched me out of my own family.

"If I explain it, you'll just say I'm keeping score."

I closed the suitcase.

"So I'm not going to."

Mom stared at me, bewilderment giving way to anger.

"Fine. If you're so determined to leave, don't come crying back here in two days."

"Fine."

She clearly hadn't expected me to agree so quickly. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Then she stormed off and slammed the door.

Monday morning at six, I wheeled my suitcase out of the house.

Mom wasn't awake yet. Light showed beneath Lily's bedroom door. She'd been up late researching colleges and had probably only just gone to sleep.

I left my house key on the shoe cabinet.

Beside it were the three movie tickets that had already expired.

The yellow floral dress hung out on the balcony, its skirt fluttering in the breeze and brushing against the glass again and again.

I watched it for a moment, then closed the door behind me.

On the way to the station, a notification from my bank appeared on my phone.

[Your scheduled monthly family transfer will be processed tomorrow.]

I opened the banking app and canceled the automatic payment I'd been making for the past five years.

Then I left the family group chat.