Chapter 3 - The Shock of the Registry
My mother, Brooke, and father froze as they stared across the pristine white-gravel courtyard toward my cabana.
I didn't hide behind my book. I slowly lowered it, slid my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose, and raised my iced matcha latte in a silent, mocking toast.
Brooke’s face turned the color of a bruised plum. My mother marched across the courtyard with the furious, determined stride of a woman who believed the universe owed her an explanation.
“Ava Marie Parker!” my mother hissed, stopping at the edge of my cabana. The security guard wisely stepped back, giving us space. “What is the meaning of this? Why are you sitting in a VIP cabana while your sister and the children are sweating by the general pool?”
I took a slow sip of my drink, setting the glass down on the side table with a soft clink.
“Good morning, Mom,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “You look stressed. Maybe you should go back to the standard room and lie down.”
“Don’t play games with me!” Brooke snapped, pushing past my mother and planting her hands on the small table. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was? The guard treated us like common trespassers! And where were you? We tried calling you all night and morning!”
“You blocked us?” my father muttered, stepping up behind them. He looked genuinely bewildered, as if the concept of a consequence was entirely alien to him.
“I didn't block you,” I corrected him gently. “I blocked all of you.”
My mother gasped, clutching her chest theatrically. “You blocked your own mother? After we let you come on this family trip? After all the sacrifices we made for you growing up?”
There it was. The emotional blackmail grenade. The classic family reunion detonator.
I stood up from the lounge chair, sliding off my sunglasses. Standing at five-foot-seven, I had spent thirty-four years making myself small so they wouldn't feel crowded by my presence. Today, I didn't slouch.
“What sacrifices, Mom?” I asked quietly.
She blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”
“What sacrifices did you make for me that you didn't make double for Brooke?” I asked, my voice cutting through the ambient sound of the waves. “Did you pay for my college? No, I worked three jobs and got scholarships. Did you buy me a car when I turned sixteen? No, I took the bus until I could afford a used Honda. Did you ever, even once in my life, put my comfort above Brooke’s convenience?”
Brooke scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, here we go. The victim complex is back. You’re jealous because I have a family!”
“I’m not jealous of your life, Brooke,” I said, looking her dead in the eye. “Your husband cut off your credit cards, you flew across the state unannounced because you had nowhere else to go, and you treated me like an eviction notice. That isn't a life I envy. That’s a hostage situation.”
Brooke flinched as if I had struck her across the face.
My mother’s face mottled with rage. “You ungrateful, selfish little—how dare you speak to your sister like that! You are supposed to support this family! You are the single aunt! You have disposable income! It is your duty to help when your family is in need!”
The word hung in the humid sea air.
Duty.
For thirty-four years, that word had been a chain binding me to their whims.
“My duty?” I whispered, a cold, humorless smile touching my lips. “My duty ended the moment you packed my underwear into a plastic laundry bag and threw my suitcase into a public hallway.”
Several resort guests in neighboring cabanas had stopped reading their magazines, turning their heads to watch the drama unfold.
My father finally looked up, his voice cracking. “Ava... come on. Don't make a scene in front of the kids.”
May you like
I looked past my parents to where Madison and Caleb were standing awkwardly by the velvet ropes, looking thoroughly terrified by their grandmother’s screaming match.
“I’m not making a scene, Dad,” I said firmly. “I am establishing boundaries. And you need to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say, because I am only going to say it once.”
