The pattern of favoritism began in small and subtle ways that I barely understood at the time. For my eighth birthday, I received a leather bound set of educational encyclopedias that my father deemed necessary for my intellectual development.
Only two months later, Kaylee turned four and was gifted a lavish princess themed gala complete with a rented pony that roamed our massive backyard for the entire afternoon. I tried to convince myself that she received more because she was younger and required additional attention, but as the years passed, the disparity only became more glaringly obvious to everyone.
Our annual family vacations were always centered around the specific whims and interests of Kaylee. If she decided she wanted to visit the theme parks in Orlando, then the entire family packed our bags and headed straight for Florida without any discussion.
When I expressed a deep interest in attending a prestigious summer science academy instead of our annual beach trip when I was twelve, my mother simply patted my head with a distant look. “Perhaps we can look into that next year, Jordan,” she said while she focused on packing Kaylee’s designer swimwear for the trip.
That promised next year never actually arrived for me. Academic achievements were another significant area where the double standard of our household was most painfully evident.
I worked tirelessly every single night to maintain a perfect grade point average while joining every academic club and debate competition available to me. My flawless report cards were usually met with nothing more than a cursory nod and a cold comment about how that was exactly what they expected from a girl with my resources.
Meanwhile, Kaylee would often bring home mediocre grades and receive effusive praise for simply trying her best or showing a minor bit of improvement in her social studies class. By the time I entered high school, I had fully internalized the belief that I needed to work twice as hard just to receive half of the recognition my sister got for doing nothing.
I joined the competitive debate team and eventually became the editor of the school magazine while taking every single advanced placement course that the curriculum offered. I often studied until well past midnight, fueled by a desperate and lingering hope that my parents would eventually look at me with the same pride they showed Kaylee when she landed a minor role in a local play.
My sister and I maintained a very complicated relationship throughout our youth. I never truly blamed her directly for the way our parents treated us because she was just as much a product of their strange parenting as I was.
However, there was an undeniable and growing distance between us as we aged into our teens. Kaylee grew incredibly accustomed to receiving whatever her heart desired without ever having to lift a finger or face the consequences of her mistakes.
When she accidentally crashed her first vehicle at sixteen, which was a brand new luxury sedan, my father simply replaced it with an even better model the very next afternoon. When I had previously asked for a small loan to help purchase a reliable used car for my commute to my part time job, he told me that I needed to learn the value of a dollar and save up myself.
The most agonizing memory of my entire childhood occurred during my senior year of high school. I had been named the valedictorian of my class, which was an achievement that represented four years of relentless labor and personal sacrifice.
The ceremony was scheduled for a Tuesday evening in late May, and I felt a surge of excitement as I prepared to deliver my speech to the entire school. When I reminded my parents about the date over dinner, my mother winced and looked down at her calendar with a sigh.
