"She wasn't with me."
"She was throwing a tantrum before I left, so I just ignored her."
Grandmother paused for a moment.
Then she let out a little gasp. "That girl's been disobedient since the day she was born. You don't think she ran away from home, do you?"
I couldn't remember what Grandmother said after that to turn Dad against me.
All I remembered was the sound.
A deafening boom inside my skull, like something had detonated behind my eyes.
Grandmother had forgotten about me.
Through the haze, I thought I saw Mom's face, twisted and contorted.
Her agonized screams echoed in my ears.
"If you hadn't been born a girl, my life wouldn't be this miserable."
"Why did you have to be born at all? It would've been better if you'd just died!"
Then came Dad, his eyes bloodshot, bringing the belt down on Mom's body, lash after lash.
"Worthless woman. All these years and you can't even give me a son. What good are you?"
"You gave me a money pit, and you think you have the right to talk back?"
And finally, Grandmother at the dinner table, rapping my knuckles with her chopsticks, her face vicious.
"Money pit. You don't lift a finger around here, but you sure know how to eat."
"If I'd known you'd turn out to be a money pit, I would've drowned you in the outhouse the day you were born!"
In the chorus of their curses, something inside me suddenly let go.
The cold began to fade. The pain in my body started to dissolve, piece by piece.
I knew then. I was finally free.
Mom, Dad, Grandmother.
Without me in this family, will you finally be happy?
I was sitting on top of the freezer now, and when I looked down, I could see the small, frozen figure inside.
That was me.
No warmth. No weight. So this was what death felt like.
Grandmother and Dad were chatting about something, laughing easily, as if they didn't have a care in the world.
Then Dad glanced at his watch and shot up from the couch.
"Mom, start cooking. I'm going to pick up Herbert Dickerson and Lisa."
"Alright." Grandmother was already heading for the kitchen. "I'll get the ribs stewing. My grandson needs a good, hearty meal."
I watched her bustling around the kitchen.
From start to finish, she never noticed the padlock on the freezer. She never once opened it.
An hour later.
The front door swung open and my brother came barreling in.
He was wearing a pair of light-up sneakers, running back and forth in front of Grandmother.
"Grandma, look! Aren't my shoes cool?"
"So cool. My handsome grandson looks good in everything." Grandmother gazed at him, her face soft with adoration.
Light-up sneakers. I'd mentioned those to Mom once.
She beat me for it.
"If it weren't for your school subsidies, you think I'd even let you go to school?"
"I gave you a chance to make something of yourself, and instead of studying hard, you learned how to be jealous of what other kids have."
I never brought it up again.
But when my brother mentioned something he wanted, even in passing, they remembered. They always remembered.
Everything Herbert wanted, he got without effort.
Everything I wanted stayed a dream.
Because I was just a bucket of water, destined to be poured out sooner or later.
Herbert was the bloodline of this family. The only heir.
"Lisa, where's Kate? I haven't seen her."
"Her? Probably still off somewhere sulking. She hasn't come back!"
Slap!
Mom's palm cracked against the table so hard it shook.
"That girl is out of control!"
"How old is she now, still throwing tantrums?"
Grandmother set the rib soup on the table and looked at Herbert, her eyes warm and doting.
"If that money pit's really gone, good riddance."
"She's nothing like our Herbert here. So well-behaved, so sensible!"
Dad let out a sigh, his gaze sharp and cold.
