“Girls,” my mother began, her voice trembling slightly as she gripped her wine glass. Her knuckles were white. “Your father and I were talking. We were thinking… maybe a massive pool party isn’t the best idea for an eighteenth birthday. We just think a catered evening indoors, maybe renting out the banquet room at the country club, might be more elegant. More… comfortable for everyone.”
Chloe froze. She lowered her fork slowly, the metal clinking against the porcelain plate with a sound that echoed like a gunshot in the silent room.
“More comfortable?” Chloe repeated, her voice eerily quiet before rapidly escalating into a shrieking crescendo. “Of course you do! Because Maya can’t handle the sun! Because Maya needs to be protected! Because this entire family revolves around Maya’s pathetic, invisible sensitivities!”
“Chloe, that is enough,” my father warned, his voice thick with a desperate, pleading authority. “Your sister has a medical condition. You know she can’t be exposed to the sun like that.”
“It’s a lie!” Chloe stood up, her chair scraping violently against the hardwood floor. Her face was twisted in an ugly, jealous rage, pointing a shaking finger directly at me. I kept my eyes locked on my plate, my hands resting in my lap, hiding beneath the oversized sleeves of my long-sleeve cotton shirt.
“I am so sick of living in her shadow!” Chloe screamed, tears of pure, unadulterated frustration spilling over her eyelashes. “You look at her like she’s some kind of tragic saint, and you look at me like I’m a shallow burden! I have worked my entire life to be perfect for you, and you don’t even care! You only care about the freak!”
“Do not call your sister that!” my mother cried out, standing up, her voice breaking into a sob.
