Blueberry Burst
My parents, Dennis and Sandra Ford, always said the wiring in our old house was too outdated to power more than three air conditioners.
My sister, Beth Ford, practiced her violin in her room all day, so she needed one.
My brother, Monty Ford, had been sickly since he was little and couldn't stand even a little heat, so he needed one too.
The last unit went to the master bedroom.
I didn't say anything. I stuck to my old, creaking fan and got through twenty-two stifling summers in Battisata City.
I thought that if I stayed quiet enough, obedient enough, my family would eventually notice me.
Then came the day I borrowed Monty's air-conditioned room for the final online interview at a major company.
Right in the middle of it, the door kept swinging open.
Beth's singing drifted in from the living room, and my dad poked his head in for the fourth time.
"Still not done? Don't forget to make your brother his honey-glazed fish tonight."
The interviewer on the screen frowned. "Sorry, we don't need employees with an attitude problem."
The second the screen went dark, I sat frozen in my chair, cold sweat soaking the hair at my forehead.
"Hurry to the market once you're finished. The fish won't be fresh if you wait too long."
Their nagging kept going, and that was the moment it hit me.
What I'd lost over the years wasn't just a working air conditioner or a hard-won job.
It was my entire family.