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My sister dropped a kissing emoji in the family group chat. "Love you so much! Oh, and Mom, I brought you a present!"
Then came a photo of a pair of pink rubber gloves, priced at ten dollars.
"Julie's so thoughtful, she knows washing dishes ruins my hands." My mother fired off three thumbs-up in a row, then started in with her needling.
"Way better than your sister. All she does is upset me, always so busy, busy, busy, can't even be bothered to help with the new place. Must be nice, leaving it all to everyone else."
My mother is allergic to dish soap, so I'm the one who washes every dish at home.
Later, once I was working, I spent my first month's paycheck on a dishwasher.
She used it once, complained it wasted water and electricity, and turned around and sold it for five hundred.
It broke my heart, and she went and told the whole family chat that the rubber gloves her younger daughter bought were far more thoughtful.
Last fall, my mother called to say her back hurt.
I drove back overnight from out of town and took her to the hospital.
The doctor said it was a bone spur. She needed rest, no strain.
I took a week off to look after her, cooking meals and simmering soup and carrying it to her bedside every day.
And all she did was sigh at me. "If only Julie were home. That girl has such a sweet mouth, she really knows how to cheer a person up..."
In that moment, it hit me.
My money, my effort, my time, none of it added up to one sweet word from my sister in my mother's eyes.
All those years of giving suddenly felt like a joke.
"Mom, for over twenty years, I gave Julie everything. New backpacks, the good room. Even when I got into college, you said the family couldn't afford to send two kids, so I dropped out and went to work, so I wouldn't put you in a bind."
"Do you have any idea? All these years I slept on a cot back home, until my spine curved. The doctor said if I kept sleeping like that I'd be paralyzed when I got old. I never told you, because I didn't want you to worry. I always thought, once I grew up and bought my own place, everything would be fine."
I pointed at the dog room, my voice trembling, thick with a sob I couldn't hold back.
"But now I've bought a three-bedroom apartment, and I still have to fight my sister's dog for a room. Mom, I just want one bed of my own, in a place I paid for. Is that really too much to ask?"
My mother went quiet for a few seconds, then stiffened her neck again. "So what about your sister? She's going through a divorce right now! You really have to pick a fight with her over this?"
"But I'm the one who bought this apartment." I looked at her, holding on to one last shred of hope.
"I'm putting it out there right now. Either the dog room goes and I take the smallest bedroom, or the apartment gets sold and you all move back home."
"You wouldn't dare!" My mother's face went white. "I put all that work into the renovation, how could you sell it? If the relatives and neighbors heard, where would I put my face!"
"Then tear out the dog room! Put the dog on the balcony!"
"No. Duke can't stand the heat!"
I gave a cold laugh. "So wall in the balcony and put in an air conditioner. Problem solved."
"Why are you such a stubborn child?" My mother stamped her foot, frantic.
"Your sister's about to be home. If she finds out you banished Duke to the balcony, imagine how hurt she'll be. She's already in a bad place..."
Before she could finish, the elevator dinged out in the hallway, and then came my sister Julie's bright, ringing laugh.
"Mom! I'm home! Duke, say hi to Grandma~"
