Chapter 9 - I Became Easier To Love After Anna Left
I hated Anna for the sentence for almost fifteen minutes.
Then I looked at my life.
Not all of it.
Just the parts that became easier after she left.
Dad stopped asking why I didn't “have Anna's edge.”
Mom stopped comparing my grades to hers.
I took the internship at Bennett Development that Anna refused.
Dad praised me in front of clients.
Mom started bringing me to charity events as if one daughter had disappeared and the remaining one needed to fill the photograph.
I told myself I was helping.
I was.
I also liked being uncomplicated.
Anna had argued about everything.
Where money came from.
How staff were treated.
Why Dad expected both daughters to work in the company.
Why Mom chose everyone's clothes for family photographs.
I had considered that exhausting.
After Anna left, the house got quiet.
Peaceful.
That was the word I used.
The word hid who had to leave for the peace to exist.
My mother called at 7:05.
“Dinner starts in twenty minutes.”
“I’m not speaking.”
Silence.
“Claire.”
“No.”
“You agreed.”
“Before today.”
“You cannot punish two hundred guests because you're angry with me.”
“I'm not punishing anyone. You can have dinner.”
“This is a family celebration.”
I looked at the white dress.
“Which family?”
Her voice hardened.
“Do not be theatrical.”
I laughed.
“Mom, you made me change dresses for a photograph.”
“I asked.”
“You sent the dress to my room after I said no.”
“And you chose to wear it.”
That stopped me.
Annoying.
True.
I looked down.
“Yes.”
She continued.
“I cannot force you into fabric.”
“No.”
“Or into staying.”
The sentence came too easily.
I heard what she was trying to do.
“You're not using my adult choices to erase what you did when I was eighteen.”
Vivian went quiet.
Better.
I continued.
“Why did you let us think Anna left with Dad's watch?”
She took time.
“Because she had taken it.”
“Again.”
“I know what you're asking.”
“Then answer.”
Her voice dropped.
“Because your father was humiliated.”
“At what?”
“Her leaving.”
“So you gave him a reason to be angry.”
“He already had one.”
“You gave him a cleaner one.”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“What about me?”
Another pause.
“I was afraid you would follow her.”
There.
“Why?”
“You were eighteen.”
“That isn't why.”
“You worshipped her.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
My mother sounded tired now.
“You copied her music. Her shoes. Her opinions for six months at a time.”
“Normal sister stuff.”
“Maybe.”
“Then?”
“When Anna left, you wanted to go after her.”
My chest tightened.
“I said I wanted to walk her to the station.”
“No.”
My mother corrected me.
“You packed a bag.”
I froze.
“What?”
Memory flashed.
A small duffel under my bed.
Jeans.
Sweatshirt.
My passport.
I had forgotten.
Or deliberately turned it into something else.
“What was I doing?”
“You told me you might stay with her for a week.”
My throat went dry.
“What did you say?”
“I told you Anna had taken your father's watch and left him during his birthday dinner.”
“And?”
“That she was using you.”
I stared at the carpet.
“Did you know by then the watch was found?”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
“What happened to my bag?”
“You unpacked it.”
I remembered that too.
Mom sitting on the bed.
Folding my jeans.
Saying:
Your sister wants everyone to prove they love her by following.
I had listened.
Because I was afraid Anna might actually ask me to choose.
My mother said:
“I was terrified I would lose both daughters in one night.”
“You lost one.”
“Yes.”
“And kept me.”
Silence.
Then Vivian said:
“For a while, I told myself that meant I had made the right decision.”
No apology yet.
Just the ugly logic.
I asked:
“Why didn't you fix it later?”
May you like
“Because every year made the correction more expensive.”
That was the most honest thing she'd said.
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