I wasn’t reckless.
I wasn’t irresponsible.
I didn’t cause drama.
I just wasn’t making much money.
Apparently, that was enough to make me invisible.
Leah was especially talented at reminding me where I stood.
She would say things like,
“It’s such a shame you never travel, Blake. You’d really benefit from seeing more of the world.”
Or,
“You should save up and take a trip sometime. It’s so good for your mental health.”
This from a woman who hadn’t worked full-time in years because Max’s income covered everything.
Leah could make an insult sound like advice.
At one Thanksgiving dinner, she pulled out her phone and showed everyone photographs from another vacation.
Then she looked at me and said,
“We did think about inviting you, but Max figured you were probably too busy with… what is it you do again? Internet stuff?”
I smiled politely.
Then I went to the kitchen.
My father followed.
“You know your sister doesn’t mean anything by it,” he told me.
“She just lives in a different world. Don’t take it personally.”
But it was personal.
Every time.
They weren’t excluding me because of logistics.
They were excluding me because they didn’t see value in having me there.
And when that judgment comes from the people who are supposed to love you without conditions, it leaves a mark.
Year after year, the pattern continued.
New destinations.
New family photos.
New explanations for why I wasn’t included.
Once, Leah became furious in the family group chat because I forgot her youngest child’s birthday.
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