Chapter 2 - The Perfect Sister
Vanessa had spent her entire life being forgiven before she apologized.
When we were children, she broke my things and cried until our parents comforted her.
When she failed a class, Mom blamed the teacher.
When she totaled Dad’s car at nineteen, they told everyone another driver caused the accident.
Vanessa learned that consequences were temporary if she created enough emotion around them.
I learned to become easy.
I was Emily Whitaker, the older daughter who handled problems quietly.
I paid my own college tuition.
Found my own apartment.
Returned home whenever my parents needed help.
Vanessa received celebrations.
I received responsibilities.
When Lily was born, I promised myself the pattern would stop with me.
For nine years, I mostly succeeded.
I limited visits when Vanessa criticized Lily’s clothes or corrected her manners too harshly.
I refused to make my daughter perform affection for relatives who treated her poorly.
But the wedding invitation weakened me.
Vanessa asked Lily to be flower girl.
She bought the pale blue dress herself and promised to make her feel special.
“She adores you,” I told Lily.
That was not entirely true.
Vanessa adored the image of having a beautiful niece in photographs.
For weeks, she sent instructions.
How Lily’s hair should curl.
Which shoes she should wear.
How quickly she should walk.
How high she should hold the basket.
I should have recognized the difference between including a child and using one as decoration.
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Instead, I believed a wedding might make Vanessa gentler.
It made her more honest.
