And right behind her, scrolling mindlessly on her phone, was my twenty-six-year-old sister, Talia.
Talia was not supposed to be here. She was dressed in a plush cashmere tracksuit, a neck pillow slung over her shoulder, and oversized designer sunglasses masking her face. It was the universal uniform of someone preparing for a long-haul international flight.
My heart did a strange, painful stutter-step. The coffees in my hand suddenly felt incredibly heavy.
“Take her… instead of me?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, slipping through the sudden, suffocating tightness in my throat.
My mother, Irina, stopped at the bottom of the porch stairs. She didn’t look guilty. She didn’t look apologetic. She reached out and stroked Talia’s arm with a protective, deeply affectionate gesture—as if Talia were a fragile victim who had just suffered a great tragedy, rather than a fully grown woman who had quit her third job this year because her boss expected her to show up on time.
“Nina, please try to understand,” Irina said, her tone dripping with that condescending, maternal exasperation she usually reserved for a misbehaving child. “You are always working. You have your own money; you can go to Europe anytime you want. But your sister… Talia is so depressed from being unemployed. The job market has been so cruel to her. She needs a break. She needs to relax in Paris to clear her head.”
I stared at them. I literally could not process the audacity of the words coming out of her mouth.
“The tickets are in my name,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “I bought them. I paid for the hotel. I paid for this car.”
I looked at my father. Marek wouldn’t meet my eyes. He suddenly found the pavement incredibly interesting, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot.
“We already used your airline miles to change the names on the tickets,” Marek muttered, his voice low, defensive. “I logged into your frequent flyer account last night. It’s all done, Nina. The boarding passes are on Talia’s phone. Don’t make a scene in front of the neighbors.”
The air in my lungs turned to ice. They hadn’t just asked for a favor. They hadn’t begged me to buy an extra ticket. This was a premeditated, calculated betrayal. They had logged into my private accounts—which I had entrusted to my father years ago to help him book domestic flights to visit his brother—and they had stolen my seat. They stole the gift I meant for them, just so they could give it to their golden child.
“Family helps family, Nina,” my mother added, stepping past me to open the door of the Town Car for Talia. “You have so much. You should be happy to provide this for your sister. We will send you lots of pictures.”
They didn’t ask me. They didn’t ask for permission. They just assumed that my role in this family was to be the invisible, uncomplaining wallet.
Talia slid into the plush leather seat of the car, not even bothering to look at me. “Thanks for the trip, Neen,” she mumbled, already putting her AirPods in. “Make sure you feed my cat while we’re gone.”
