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I was allergic to meat. Not a single bite of it could touch my lips.
The eighteenth time I collapsed from malnutrition and got carried into a hospital, I messaged the family group chat.
【I fainted. I'm at the hospital.】
No one replied.
Two hours later, the doctor walked in holding my blood test results.
"These say you aren't allergic to any meat at all. Did your family get something confused?"
I snapped a photo of the report and posted it in the group.
【The doctor says I can eat meat.】
Mom replied instantly.
【Angela Fox, what are you trying to say? You think this family can't spare you a bite of meat?】
Dad followed right behind.
【Don't go upsetting your mother.】
I stared at the messages, frozen.
And it came back to me, how it was only after my sister was born that Mom and Dad started saying I was allergic to meat.
I was six then, and I didn't believe it. I secretly fished a half-eaten chicken drumstick out of the trash that my sister had thrown away.
Mom caught me and jammed her fingers down my throat.
She forced me to vomit until my stomach bled, and I spent two weeks in the hospital.
After that, I never dared to touch meat again.
My social feed refreshed with a photo of my sister, standing at a table covered in barbecue, flashing peace signs with both hands.
The caption:
【The Hermès of all-you-can-eat barbecue. Oh yeah.】
That place cost eighteen hundred and sixty dollars a head. The vouchers came from a project partner at my company, two of them.
With one line, "You can't eat meat," Mom had decided to hand both to my sister.
Tears splattered onto the screen.
This lie had fooled me for twenty years.
It wasn't that they couldn't spare me a bite.
They were just afraid that every bite I took was a bite less for my sister.
I opened my boss's chat.
"That offer to send me to the Montgomery branch office to run the project, I accept."
I'd heard the beef and lamb in Montgomery were rich and delicious. From now on, I'd eat meat by the mouthful, alone.
……
After the last bottle of IV nutrients drained, the doctor wrote up the papers and discharged me.
When I got home, Mom and Dad were on the couch with Vera Fox, watching a variety show, all three of them laughing at whatever was on the screen.
Hearing the door, Mom turned her head toward me.
"You're back? Your sister brought home skillet chicken for me and your dad. We already finished it."
She raised a hand and pointed at the dining table.
"You can't eat meat, so cook yourself some rice and heat up whatever's there."
One plate held the beef-and-lettuce stir-fry, picked down to nothing but the lettuce. The other held some yellowing bok choy.
I looked at the food on the table, and something hot and heavy lodged in my throat, aching and bitter at once.
Seeing the look on my face, Mom rolled her eyes.
"Your sister goes out and still remembers to bring food back for me and your dad. You come home empty-handed, fine, but who's the sour face for?"
Then she turned back to the TV.
My hand shook around the test report. I drew in a breath and walked over to stand in front of them.
"I already posted the blood results in the group. The doctor says I was never allergic to meat at all. I've always been able to eat it."
Mom gave me a flat glance.
"Oh. Got it."
Dad cleared his throat, hard.
"Are you blaming us? The doctor back then said you couldn't eat meat. How were your mom and I supposed to know?"
"Besides, you can eat it now, so eat it. Nobody's stopping you."
I looked down at the purple bruises around the needle marks on the back of my hand. My chest felt tight and choked.
After a few seconds of silence, Mom said,
"Fine. It's a good thing you can eat meat now. There's a few pieces of chicken left from what your sister brought. I'll get it out for you."
She stood, opened the fridge, and pulled out a container tucked behind a pile of vegetables.
She lifted the lid. Inside were two drumsticks and five loose scraps of meat.
She dropped the five scraps onto a plate, closed the container with the drumsticks inside, and put it back.
"That was going to be for your sister's noodles tomorrow morning. I'll give you a few pieces. Your little recovery really has good timing."
"That's all right."
My voice was very quiet.
But Mom reacted as if something had set her off, slamming her chopsticks down on the table.
"Angela Fox, who's that sour face for?"
"I'm tired. I want to rest."
Then I turned and walked toward my room.
The moment I shut the door, a plate shattered against the floor in the living room.
"She actually dares to make a face at me? I raised her with everything I had. What did I ever do wrong by her?"
"Come on, Vera's been sweet and obedient since she was little. Don't waste your anger on her."
Vera coaxed them, sweet and wheedling.
"Dad, Mom, don't be mad. Come watch TV with me."
The laughter started up again.
As if none of it had happened at all.
My phone lit up with a message from my boss.
"Report to the Montgomery branch office in seven days. Tickets are booked. Get your handover done in the next few days."
I forced the wronged tears back down.
Never mind.
I was leaving this family anyway.
