My dad set down his fork.
“Son, your sister needs help. She’s pregnant. This is important.”
“Then hire a house sitter,” I repeated.
“I’m sure there are plenty of services that do this professionally.”
Olivia’s face turned red. Brad finally looked up from his phone.
“Dude, what’s your problem? It’s just checking on some houses.”
“My problem,” I said, still calm, “is that I’m good enough to be family when you need something from me, but I’m not good enough to be family when you’re planning vacations.
“You can’t have it both ways.”
My mom gasped like I’d said something horrible.
“That’s not fair. You know the situation with the beach house. There just wasn’t enough room, right?”
Not enough room for me.
But enough room for Brad’s sister’s kids, who Olivia barely talks to.
Got it.
Olivia stood up, her chair scraping loudly.
“Are you really going to make my pregnancy about you? Are you that selfish?”
“I’m the selfish one?” I asked.
“That’s interesting.”
“You know what your problem is?” Olivia said, her voice getting louder.
“You’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous of me—of my life, my marriage, everything. You can’t stand that I’m happy.”
“I’m not jealous of you,” I said quietly.
“I’m just tired of being treated like the help.”
“The help?” Olivia snapped.
“Are you kidding me right now? We include you in everything.”
“You include me when it’s convenient for you,” I said.
“When you need something fixed or moved or done. But when it comes to actually being part of this family, I’m just an afterthought.”
My dad slammed his hand on the table.
“That’s enough. You’re being disrespectful.”
“I’m being disrespectful?”
I could feel my voice shaking now, but I kept going.
“I’ve spent my entire adult life showing up for all of you. I helped pay for your roof. I help Olivia with everything she asks for. I come to these dinners every week even though nobody actually cares about anything I have to say.
“And now I’m not even worth a spot on a family vacation.”
“It wasn’t personal,” my mom said weakly.
“It’s always personal, Mom. Everything you do is personal. You just don’t want to admit it.”
Olivia crossed her arms.
“If you’re so miserable being part of this family, maybe you should just leave then.”
The table went silent again.
Even Brad looked up at that one.
“What did you just say?” I asked.
“You heard me,” Olivia said.
“If being around us is such a burden—if you think we treat you so terribly—then maybe you just don’t belong here.