I asked to borrow my sister’s car to get to a life-changing job interview because mine was in the shop. My parents laughed and gave her the keys so she could go to the cinema. “Her social life is more important than your little ‘job,’” my dad sneered, even pushing me out the door. I walked three miles in the rain and missed the interview. I said nothing. Two days later, my dad called in a panic. I answered coldly, “If a movie is more important than my career, then my money is too important for your bills.”
I froze. “What do you mean you can’t do it? You don’t have anywhere to be.”
“Chloe needs the car,” he said, finally looking up with a look of mild annoyance. “She’s meeting her friends for that new blockbuster opening at the IMAX downtown. She already promised them she’d drive.”
“Dad, it’s a movie,” I pleaded, stepping closer to the counter. My pulse began to drum against my silk blouse. “This is my career. I’ve worked three years for this opening. The bus schedule is completely shot because of the construction on Route 9. I will miss the interview.”
Right on cue, my nineteen-year-old sister wandered in. Chloe was the family’s golden child, a title she maintained by simply existing and demanding to be pampered. She was scrolling through her phone, already dressed in a brand-new boutique outfit I knew our parents couldn’t afford.
“It’s not just a movie, Clara,” she sighed, not bothering to look up from her screen. “It’s a social event. Don’t be so dramatic about your little ‘job interview.’ There are plenty of offices in the world. You can just reschedule.”
Reschedule. As if Sterling & Sons operated like her community college study groups. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I was the one paying for the high-speed gigabit internet she was currently using. I contributed half my paycheck to the family’s group health insurance plan. I was the load-bearing wall of this house, and they were treating me like peeling wallpaper.
I saw the spare keys resting near the fruit bowl. I made a move for them.
Just as my fingers brushed the cold metal ring, Arthur’s heavy hand slammed down over mine, pinning my knuckles to the Formica counter. His eyes, usually clouded with apathy, were suddenly sharp and violently dismissive.
“Give her the keys, Arthur,” a voice called from the hallway.
My mother, Martha Miller, walked in carrying a plastic laundry basket. She didn’t offer a glance of sympathy. She never did. She was the architect of Arthur’s delusions, always ready to reinforce the status quo, and I was the daughter expected to endlessly sacrifice for her younger sister. “Chloe’s had a terribly stressful week at classes. She needs the outlet. Clara can just walk to the bus stop on the other side of the highway. It’s good for her character.”
I stared at my mother, the air leaving my lungs. Good for my character. Arthur snatched the keys from under my hand and tossed them across the kitchen. Chloe caught them with a smug, victorious little smile.
“Go on,” Arthur sneered, literally shoving his shoulder against my chest, pushing me back toward the mud-slicked hallway. “If you’re such a big-shot architect, build yourself a bridge. Her social life is more important than your little ‘job.’ Now get out before you’re late for your walk.”
The front door slammed behind me. The sky above Pennsylvania had turned the color of bruised iron. Within two minutes, the drizzle transformed into a torrential, freezing downpour. I stood on the cracked sidewalk, clutching my leather portfolio to my chest, praying the waterproof seal would hold.
The garage door rattled open. The heavy family SUV backed out, the tires hissing against the wet asphalt. Chloe didn’t even slow down as she pulled into the street. The heavy right tire hit a massive pothole, sending a wave of dirty, oil-slicked rainwater crashing over the curb.
It hit me waist-high. The icy mud soaked instantly through my gray wool skirt and blazer, chilling me to the bone.
I didn’t yell. I didn’t cry. I didn’t throw my hands up in the air. I just stood there, the rain plastering my hair to my forehead, and watched the red taillights of the SUV disappear around the corner. Something inside my chest, a tether I had spent my whole life trying to reinforce, quietly and cleanly snapped.
