I figured if nothing else, it would keep them from complaining for a weekend.
The guests started arriving in waves around noon. I watched from a bench near the gazebo, sipping lemonade and pretending to scroll through my phone.
First came my cousin Liam, the one who made six figures in finance and never let anyone forget it. He stepped out of his black Escalade like he was stepping onto a red carpet.
Then Aunt Camille and Uncle Jerry, loud as ever, dragging two coolers behind them.
When my mom arrived, she walked straight past me without a word. I think she thought if she didn’t acknowledge me, she wouldn’t have to answer questions. Typical.
Finally, someone noticed me.
“Oh, look,” my aunt Camille called out loudly enough for heads to turn. “He showed up. Must be out of money again.”
I froze, forced a tight smile.
Liam smirked and chimed in. “Heard you’re still living in that crappy apartment with the broken heater. Rough.”
My mom finally looked at me, wine glass in hand, and said with a shrug, “If you tried harder, maybe you’d have something to brag about, too.”
It felt like a punch to the gut, even though I knew it was coming. I thought maybe, just maybe, they’d ease up this time. But no. Same script, same digs.
I bit the inside of my cheek and stood up. “I’m going to walk around,” I said quietly, slipping away before anyone could get another word in.
The sun was hot, the air thick with the smell of grilled chicken and overly sweet kleslaw. Kids ran around screaming, the sound of laughter clashing with the storm brewing in my chest.
I walked to the edge of the lake, stared out at the water, and tried to breathe. I reminded myself why I came. Not for them, not for approval, just to be here, to see it through, and leave with my head high.
But their words stuck, echoed.
I thought of every night I’d stayed up working, of every bill I’d paid late to keep my company alive. I thought of how I’d bailed out my mom last year when her credit card debt spiraled, and she begged me not to tell anyone. I thought of the emails, the missed holidays, the burnout, and how none of it seemed to matter to them.
Around 3:00 p.m., the food was served.
Everyone lined up at the buffet tables, laughing, joking, piling their plates. I saw Camille grab two slices of pie, one for now and one for later. I saw Liam bragging about his new watch. I saw my mom sipping her second glass of wine, smiling like she belonged in a magazine ad for Happy Families.
I walked back toward the tents, slow and steady. Something in me had shifted.
I wasn’t angry. I was clear.
The event coordinator spotted me near the edge of the crowd. She smiled. “Everything going well?”
I nodded, then leaned in. “Hey, could you do me a favor?”
“Go ahead.”
“Cancel the payment. The card on file, it’s mine. I’d like to pull it. Let them know they’ll be covering it themselves now.”