At Family Dinner, My Sister Introduced Her New Boyfriend — And For Some Reason, They All Kept Staring At Me. When He Asked What I Do For Work, My Mom Cut Me Off: “Don’t Embarrass Us.” Everyone Laughed. My Sister Added, “Maybe Lie This Time, So You Don’t Sound So Pathetic.” I Just Smiled… Until Their Faces Went Pale.

I straightened my shirt, ran a hand through my hair, and took a deep breath. For a brief moment, I considered turning around and leaving before anyone saw me. But some stubborn part of me—pride perhaps, or just plain stubbornness—propelled me forward.

You’re Sheldon Westbrook, I reminded myself. Your work matters, even if they don’t see it yet.

With that thought steadying me, I stepped into the dining room and into the familiar performance of being the family disappointment.

“There he is.” My mother’s voice carried across the room, pitched slightly too high. “We were beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

The familiar dining room, with its dark cherry table and ancestral portraits, felt like a stage set for the evening’s performance. Crystal glasses caught the light from the chandelier, and the good china, only used for special occasions, was arranged with precision.

“Traffic,” I muttered, though I’d actually been sitting in the car for ten minutes, delaying the inevitable.

My father barely looked up from his conversation, acknowledging me with just the slightest nod. Amanda, however, was on her feet, pulling forward a tall, broad-shouldered man with perfect teeth and a confident stance.

“Sheldon, this is Jackson,” she said, her voice tinged with unmistakable pride. “Jackson, my brother Sheldon.”

Jackson extended his hand with the confident grip of someone who had never doubted his place in the world. His watch, which I couldn’t help but notice, was a Rolex worth more than all my camera equipment combined, gleamed as we shook hands.

“Great to finally meet you,” he said with what seemed like genuine interest. “Amanda told me about her photographer brother.”

I wondered exactly what she’d told him. Probably that I was the family charity case. The cautionary tale of potential squandered.

“All good things, I hope,” I replied with the practiced smile I reserved for these occasions.

“Of course,” Amanda said quickly, though her eyes suggested otherwise. “Jackson’s just finished his residency in neurosurgery at Mass General. He’s joining Daddy’s department next month.”

Of course he was. I should have predicted this. Amanda would naturally find someone who would further cement her place in our father’s world. Someone who would fit seamlessly into the Westbrook vision of success.

“Impressive,” I said, because it was expected.

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