If you ask my mother, I’m “responsible.” If you ask my bank account, I’m “overdrafted by love.” I’m thirty-one years old, and for the past decade I’ve been my family’s emergency contact, unpaid accountant, and human warranty they call when something breaks. Shipments, deadlines, stability—that’s my love language, apparently. My family’s love language is “put it on Claire’s card.”
Sunday dinner at my parents’ house was supposed to be quiet and uneventful.
The roast was in the oven, filling the kitchen with the smell of garlic and rosemary. Dad sat in his usual chair pretending the muted football game on TV was more important than actual human interaction. My younger sister Jenna breezed in twenty minutes late wearing a cashmere sweater that probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget, asking if we had lemon water like she’d just wandered into a boutique spa.
“Sink works,” I said from my position at the counter, chopping parsley for the potatoes. “Claire, be nice,” Mom sang without looking up from the gravy she was whisking. “Your sister’s had an incredibly stressful week at work.”
Jenna sighed dramatically, draping herself across a barstool.
“My boss was just so negative about my ideas. It’s exhausting being creative in such a toxic environment.”
Right. I’m “careful.” She’s “creative.” One word sparkles on a resume.
One word actually pays the bills. Aunt Rose leaned in from her spot at the kitchen table, eyeing me over her reading glasses. “Still renting that little apartment downtown, Claire?
You’re not getting any younger, sweetheart. Don’t you want to build equity? Start thinking about your future?”
“Working on it,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.
Mom tapped the oven door with her wooden spoon like she was punctuating a sentence. “Claire’s careful with money,” she announced to the room, making it sound like a personality flaw. “She likes predictable.
She’s comfortable where she is. She’s not like Jenna. Jenna’s meant for bigger things.”
Later, after we’d moved to the dining room and were halfway through the meal, Dad didn’t even bother looking away from the game highlights on his phone.
“Claire, grab the check when it comes, okay? I left my wallet in the car.”
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