‘We Didn’t Order For You,’ Dad Said, Sliding Me Bread While My Brother Enjoyed His Steak. His Wife Said, “It’s Nice You Could Make It.” When The Bill Came, Dad Said: “Let’s Split It Fairly.”

My cousin works at Morton’s. Everyone’s talking. I stared at that text.

My stomach tightened. Victoria’s social circle was a small empire of curated image. And apparently, I’d just become their favorite villain.

The phone rang. Aunt Linda. Her voice was low, cautious.

“I heard about last night. Connor called you, didn’t he?”

“He did,” she admitted. “Said you walked out on a family dinner, left your father to foot the bill.

That true?”

“That’s one way to describe it,” I said. “Want to hear the other?”

And I told her everything. The invite.

The we didn’t order for you moment. The bread. The check.

The $3. When I finished, there was silence on the other end. Then a small sound, a laugh, genuine, surprised.

“I shouldn’t laugh,” she said between breaths. “But God, Carrie, that was overdue.”

“Overdue?”

“Your brother’s been walking all over you for years. So has your father.

You think I don’t know? Your mom used to call me about it. She’d say, ‘Conor gets the attention.

Carrie gets the expectations.’”

My throat tightened. Mom used to say that, too. But I hadn’t heard it out loud since her funeral.

Continue reading…