“I’m not trying to ruin anything for anyone,” I said as quietly and calmly as I could manage, though my hands were shaking at my sides. “I’m just not going to the wedding. That’s all.”
My dad’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, that vein in his temple starting to pulse the way it always did when he was truly angry.
“You’re being incredibly selfish right now, Erica. Do you have any idea how this is going to look to everyone? What are we supposed to tell people when they ask where you are? How are we supposed to explain that you couldn’t be bothered to show up for your own sister’s wedding?”
“Tell them the truth,” I said, my voice growing sharper despite my best efforts to stay calm. “Tell them I had other plans that I couldn’t change.”
My mom’s face twisted into something cold and hard, something ugly that she usually kept hidden beneath her polished exterior.
“You’re making this entire situation about you, just like you always do,” she snapped. “Everything always has to be about Erica and her feelings and her problems. You can’t just be happy for your sister for once in your life. You have to turn it into some kind of drama.”
I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. I wanted to list every single time I’d shown up for them without question or complaint, every birthday party and holiday gathering and family dinner where I’d smiled and pretended everything was perfectly fine when it wasn’t. I wanted to remind them of every recital and graduation and celebration where I’d been there with bells on, where I’d cheered and clapped and acted like the supportive daughter and sister they always claimed they wanted me to be.
I wanted to throw their hypocrisy right back in their faces.
But I didn’t say any of that. I just looked at them—these people who were supposed to love me unconditionally—and felt a deep, aching sadness settle into my chest like a heavy stone.
“I’m not going,” I said one final time, my voice firm and clear.
