For eight years, my parents made me leave whenever my brother’s fiancée visited. “She’s from a g0od family. Don’t embarrass us,” Mom said. So 0ne weekend, I disappeared for good. Four years later, they finally discovered where I’d gone.

To my mother, it became a permanent embarrassment.

“You know how Clara’s family is,” she would say while straightening her expensive cardigan. “They’re very traditional. Her father sits on hospital boards. Her mother is involved with the church. They don’t need to hear complicated stories.”

Then she would slide money across the kitchen counter.

“Go somewhere for the weekend, Anastasia. I told them you’re a successful executive living in Atlanta.”

My father, Arthur, never argued.

He usually kept his eyes on his financial newspaper.

“Just go until Sunday, Annie. Don’t create problems.”

So I went.

Again.

And again.