My Mom “Forgot” To Save Dessert For My Son At The Christmas Party And Said, “We Didn’t Set Any Aside.”

Just long enough to stop the constant buzzing and hear my own thoughts.

About an hour later, my phone lit up with a different name.

Chris, my older brother. He almost never called unless our parents were in the room.

I answered anyway. What the hell happened last night?

he asked.

Mom is freaking out.

Dad is pacing around talking about lawyers and ungrateful children. I told him what happened at the dessert table and what she said to Noah.

On the other end of the line, he went quiet.

I saw him standing there. He said finally.

I told myself I was overreacting, that mom was just stressed.

I guess I did what I always do.

I let it go.

Of course he did. Chris has spent his whole life smoothing things over, pretending their worst moments were no big deal. I am not asking you to fix them, I said.

I am just done letting them use the word family as leverage.

They want my name on their paperwork and their trust and their house, but they cannot even give my kid a slice of pudding.

If we are not family at the table, we are not family at the bank.

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