3: 3
3. The phone was an off-brand model I'd bought at the store for a little over eight hundred.
Cheap, yes. But every cent had come out of my own wages.
Looking at the shattered screen, it hurt.
The cracks spread out from the center like a spiderweb.
I bent down and picked it up, pressing the power button again and again.
The touchscreen worked, then didn't, then worked.
My mother folded her arms and warned me.
"Is that any way to talk to your sister?"
"When your sister asks you for help, the older sister says yes."
"I'll let it slide this once. Don't ever do it again."
I didn't even lift my head. I just stared at the crack running across the screen.
Cecily leaned against the doorframe, one corner of her mouth curling up.
"It's not even a good phone. Do you really need to make this much of a fuss?"
"If it's that big a deal, I'll give you one of my old ones."
"Even four or five years old, it'd still be way better than that thing in your hand."
She said it without a thought.
True enough. Her phone had cost over four thousand back when she bought it.
Of course it was better than my off-brand one.
But I told her, plainly, "No thanks."
In this house, I'd long since gotten used to swallowing it and doing as I was told.
More than that, I'd gotten used to being their trash can.
Whatever anyone threw out, it ended up mine in the end.
Cecily's old phone, Rudolph's old fountain pen, the clothes my mother didn't want anymore.
Good or bad, it all came down to me.
And then they'd always add one more line.
Beverly's the sensible one. She's not picky.
I wasn't sensible. I just never had a choice.
Cecily suddenly frowned and raised her voice.
"Bev, what's wrong with you today?"
"We just didn't take you on vacation. Is that really worth all this?"
I lifted my head and looked at her, no expression on my face.
"This isn't about the vacation."
She started to say something else, but my mother cut her off.
"Enough. We're family. What is there to fight about."
She turned to me, her tone softening a little.
"Beverly, you be good too."
"We really can't take you this time. You stay and watch the house."
"Weren't you always saying which place had the good delivery?"
"Order whatever you want these next few days. No one's going to stop you."
Something about it struck me as almost funny.
Only when they went on vacation did I get the privilege of ordering delivery at home.
This was where I lived.
But it had never really been my home.
Seeing me stay quiet, my mother pressed again.
"We're too busy these two days. Help pack the luggage."
With that, she pulled Cecily along and left.
I looked at the clothes piled on the living room sofa, and the open suitcase spread across the bedroom bed.
I didn't touch any of it.
I opened my phone. It still barely worked.
I'd already booked a flight for the same day as theirs.
I dragged out my own old suitcase and started packing.
I didn't have many clothes. Half the case was enough.
Then I lay down on the bed.
The phone buzzed a few times. My father had posted in the group chat.
【Rushing back tonight to pack. Don't leave anything behind.】
My mother replied within a second.
【This kind of thing, just have Beverly do it.】
Rudolph dropped a pin, saying he'd found a reliable currency exchange spot.
Cecily jumped in and sent a few restaurant links.
【We have to hit all of these. My feed's been blowing up with them.】
One message after another, the chat kept climbing.
I just watched, all the way through.
But my chest felt like a hand had closed around it, tightening bit by bit.
It hurt.
And whatever hope I'd had left for this family drained out of me for good.
Soon there were laughing voices outside the door.
They'd run into each other on the way and come back together.
They pushed the door open still chatting and laughing.
Then all four of them fell silent at once.
Not one piece of the clothing piled in the living room and bedroom was gone.
Cecily instantly yelled at me.
"Bev, what are you doing? Why didn't you pack our luggage?!"
I lay on the bed and answered slowly.
"It's packed."
"Just mine, though."
My mother strode up to me, her face dark.
"I told you we can't take you this time. Why won't you just listen?"
"Since when did you get so difficult?"
Difficult?
Those two words cut deep.
I sat up on the edge of the bed and looked up at her, quiet.
"Mom, in all my life, when have I ever been difficult?"
"I've done everything you've ever told me. Isn't that enough?"
My mother froze for a second.
Then she looked even angrier.
"Beverly, you're talking back now?"
"I'm your mother!"
"What has gotten into you today!"
I lowered my eyes. "Nothing. I'm just tired."
"I don't want to be the good girl anymore."
"Do whatever you want. It has nothing to do with me."
The words had barely left my mouth when my mother lunged forward.
Her palm landed square across my face.
The whole side of my face burned.
She jabbed a finger at me, unable to hold back the shouting.
"Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth?"
"I'm your mother. I'm the one who gave birth to you!"
"You will do as I say!"
