Or perhaps pretending not to notice.
“I’ll eat in the kitchen, Mom,” Chloe said softly. “It’s okay.”
She walked away.
I heard the kitchen door open.
Then the scrape of a chair.
Then silence.
I pictured her sitting there alone with her plate, in her own home, as if she were a stranger.
“Well, that worked out nicely,” Vanessa said with satisfaction. “Now everyone has a place. Danny, pour the drinks.”
Daniel filled everyone’s glasses.
Everyone except mine.
I sat there staring at the kitchen door.
I told myself:
Chloe, just get through this.
Then:
I’ll fix it.
Then:
This will be the last time.
I had told myself that so many times.
And every time, I had been wrong.
“Emily, why aren’t you eating?” Vanessa asked through a mouthful of food. “Oh, right. You’re still trying to lose weight. Always losing weight.”
She laughed.
Her husband laughed too.
Daniel did not.
But he said nothing.
He simply continued eating.
As if everything were normal.
As if his daughter were not sitting alone in the kitchen.
As if this were not his home.
As if we were not his family.
I stood.
“Where are you going?” Daniel asked.
“To check the pie.”
Chloe was sitting on a kitchen stool.
Her plate was almost untouched.
She was not eating.
She was looking out the window.
Snow was falling beyond the glass.
Slowly.
Quietly.
As quietly as my daughter.
“Chloe, why aren’t you eating?”
“I’m not hungry.”
I sat beside her and took her hand.
She did not pull away.
She never pulled away.
She endured everything.
Just as I had.
Just as I still did.
“Mom,” she said. “Why is Aunt Vanessa always like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I don’t belong here. Like Ethan is a real person and I’m just… furniture.”
I could not answer.
Because she was telling the truth.
I felt the same way.
And I had allowed it to continue.
For years.
Every holiday.
Every visit from Vanessa.
Every:
“Move over, Chloe.”
“Be quiet, Chloe.”
“Don’t get in the way, Chloe.”
And I had stayed silent.
For the sake of peace.
For Daniel.
To avoid another argument.
“It won’t happen again,” I told her.
I did not yet know whether I could keep that promise.
But I said it anyway.
Chloe looked at me.
For the first time that evening, she truly looked at me.
There were no tears in her eyes.
Something else was there.
Perhaps hope.
Perhaps disappointment.
At the time, I could not tell which.
We returned to the dining room.
I sat down again.
Vanessa began talking about her job.
How indispensable she was.
How she had recently received a promotion.
How Ethan had won some award at school.
I listened.
Nodded.
Pretended everything was fine.
I had spent most of my life pretending everything was fine.
Then, as casually as if she were discussing the weather, Vanessa said:
“Emily, remember the money you lent us last year? We were waiting for payday. Well, we still haven’t been able to pay it back. Don’t worry about it. We’ll get to it eventually.”
I looked at Daniel.
Once again, he lowered his eyes to his plate.
He always did that whenever Vanessa brought up money.
Later, after she left, he would say:
“She’s my sister. How could I refuse her?”
“Fine,” I replied. “Then later it is.”
Vanessa smiled.
A victorious smile.
As if she had won another round.
Perhaps she had.
Vanessa always won.
I always gave in.
I simply had not wanted to admit it before.
That evening, I finally understood.
I looked at the empty chair where my daughter should have been sitting.
The celebration eventually ended.
Vanessa left with her husband and Ethan.
Ethan did not even say goodbye.
Vanessa kissed Daniel’s cheek and patted my shoulder like I was a dog she expected to obey.
Then the door closed.
Silence settled over the house.
I went to Chloe’s room.
She was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
I sat beside her.
“Chloe.”
She turned her head.
“I’m sorry.”
For a long time, she said nothing.
“For what?”
“For staying silent. For letting her treat you that way. For allowing you to eat in the kitchen tonight. In your own home.”
“Mom, this isn’t really our holiday. It’s hers. Everything is always about her. You just didn’t notice before.”
I had not noticed.
God.
Or perhaps I had not wanted to notice.
Because admitting there was a problem would have meant I had to do something about it.
And I had not known how.
I did not know how to tell Vanessa no.
I did not know how to make Daniel tell her no.
I did not know how to stop being useful to everyone except myself.
I kissed Chloe’s forehead, turned off the light, and left.
Daniel was standing in the hallway, carrying a bottle of beer.
He looked full and content.
As if nothing had happened.
As if the evening had been completely ordinary.
Maybe even pleasant.
“Going to bed?” he asked.
“Yes.”
I lay down and closed my eyes.
Sleep would not come.
I thought about Chloe.
Vanessa.
Daniel.
Myself.
Tomorrow, I decided.
Tomorrow I would talk to my husband.
I would tell him how much this hurt.
How ashamed I felt.
How much I hated these family gatherings.
How tired I was of Vanessa.
How much I hated myself for staying silent year after year.