Chapter 4 - Laya's Collapse
When the eldest sibling resigns, the golden child is forced to inherit the vacuum.
For years, Laya had coasted through life on a cloud of perceived helplessness. If her car made a rattling noise, she brought it to my apartment. If she had to file her taxes, she emailed me her W-2s and pouted until I did them on TurboTax. If she was short on rent for her off-campus studio, she would call me crying about how "mean" her landlord was until I Venmoed her two hundred dollars.
My parents praised her helplessness because it made them feel needed. They called her "sensitive," "delicate," and "creative."
Two weeks after the Facebook incident, reality arrived to collect its debt.
I was at my office on a Thursday afternoon when the front desk receptionist called my desk. "Ava? There’s a young woman in the lobby. She’s... quite agitated. She says she’s your sister."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Call building security if she makes a scene, Brenda. I’ll be right out."
When I stepped into the glass-walled lobby, Laya was pacing the hardwood floor, clutching a designer handbag that cost more than my monthly car payment. Her makeup was slightly smeared, and her eyes flared with furious tears the second she spotted me.
"You blocked my number!" she shouted, not caring that two corporate clients were sitting by the reception desk.
"Keep your voice down, Laya, or security will escort you to the street," I said in a quiet, measured voice. "What do you want?"
"You didn't pay my Wi-Fi bill!" she hissed, storming toward me. "My internet got cut off this morning! I have an online quiz due tonight!"
I stared at her in utter disbelief. "Why would I pay your Wi-Fi bill?"
"Because it’s on your account! You set it up when I moved into my apartment!"
"I set it up because you didn't have a credit score," I replied coldly. "And I gave you the login credentials four months ago and told you to put your own card on file. I cancelled my auto-pay on November first."
"You knew I didn't have money this month!" she wailed, stamping her foot like a petulant middle-schooler. "Dad cut my allowance because he had to pay two hundred and fifty dollars to a locksmith last week! And Mom has been locked in her bedroom crying for three days because everyone at her garden club saw Aunt Clara’s comment! The house is a war zone, Ava! Nobody is buying groceries, Muffin’s litter box hasn't been cleaned in three days, and Dad is screaming at me to get a job at Target!"
She grabbed my sleeve. Her fingers were trembling.
"You need to come home," she pleaded, dropping the anger and switching instantly to the wide-eyed baby-sister routine that had manipulated me for a decade. "Just come over, say you're sorry for the Facebook post, fix Dad’s printer, and help me with my resume. Mom will forgive you. Things can just go back to normal!"
I looked down at her hand on my sleeve.
"Normal for whom, Laya?"
She blinked, confused. "What?"
"Normal for you? Where you live rent-free on Dad’s dime, use my credit, ignore my existence until you need cash, and treat me like unpaid labor? That normal?"
"I don't treat you like labor!"
"When was my birthday, Laya?"
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Her eyes darted toward the ceiling, frantically searching her memory. "It was... it was early October. The tenth?"
"It was the fourteenth. The day you posted thirty TikToks of yourself wearing cat ears while Muffin ate tuna pâté."
"It was a party, Ava! Why are you punishing me for a party?!"
"I’m not punishing you," I said, gently pulling my arm from her grasp. "I’m letting you grow up. Your Wi-Fi is your problem. Your resume is your problem. Mom’s crying spells are Dad’s problem. I am done managing this family's dysfunction."
"You’re selfish!" she screamed as I turned toward the security doors. "You’ve always been jealous of me! Mom was right about you! You’re heartless!"
The glass security doors clicked shut behind me, cutting off her voice.
As I walked back to my desk, my coworker Mark looked over his cubicle wall with wide eyes. "Everything okay?"
May you like
"Better than ever," I said. And for the first time, it was completely true.
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