- 12.
Polly, of course, didn’t want the meds. She
bolted the second the car stopped.
Back at home, Mom was cleaning out my
stuff. She finally understood what my life had
been like.
There was no glamorous success, only a
constant struggle for survival, followed by
therapy.
She picked up my sock with a hole in it, and
<
“Why were you always so stubborn? You’d
always argue with us. Why didn’t you ever
come to me when you were upset?”
I was tearing up, a lump forming in my throat.
Mom, I did talk to you, what did you do then?
I went to you the first time Polly bullied me.
But you just believed Polly’s fake tears. You
just comforted her.
I tugged on your sleeve, “Mom, I didn’t yell at
her, she yelled at me, and she tore my book.”
You shoved me away, and yelled, “You’ve
learned to lie, too? Polly is so little, she
wouldn’t do anything wrong. You’re her older
sister, you have to let her have her way!”
<
Older sister.
I’m her older sister!
You always emphasized that.
Because of that title, I was supposed to
accept all the injustice, all the unfairness.
But you never put the same pressure on my
older brother, just because he was older.
Mom, you don’t love me.
What’s the point of complaining to you?
Mom, I’m your kid, too.
I’m not asking for you to love me the most,
just give me a little bit of love.
<
Why can’t you give me even that?
Why?
