“You’re just so jealous of your sister,” my dad said, his voice dripping with disappointment. “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?”
I stood in my parents’ living room in Louisville, Kentucky, gripping my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. My mom laughed from the couch, a sharp sound that cut through the tension like glass shattering. She looked at my dad and shook her head as if I were a child throwing a tantrum over not getting dessert.
“I’m not going to the wedding,” I repeated, keeping my voice steady despite the anger bubbling inside me. “I have my reasons.”
My dad crossed his arms over his chest, his face already starting to turn that familiar shade of red I’d seen throughout my childhood whenever I disappointed him.
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