“Huh?” I said.
“Weird.”
“Yeah, weird. She left a note on your door. Something about a family emergency and needing you to call her ASAP. Figured you’d want to know.”
“Appreciate it,” I said.
“But I’m good.”
Jackson gave me a curious look but didn’t push it. We chatted for a few more minutes about how I’d moved, then he headed out.
A family emergency.
How convenient.
I wondered what they could possibly need that qualified as an emergency.
Later that night, I was curious enough to check my old voicemail from before I changed numbers. I’d forwarded it to my email before disconnecting the line, and sure enough, there were messages: fifteen missed calls from Olivia’s number.
Six voicemails.
I listened to the first one.
“Hey, it’s me. Listen, we have a situation down here and we really need your help. Can you call me back ASAP? It’s important.”
The second one.
“Okay, I don’t know why you’re not answering, but this is serious. We need you to do something for us. Call me back right now.”
The third one, her voice getting more frantic.
“Where are you? I’ve been calling for hours. Mom and Dad are freaking out. We need you to go to our house and take care of something. This is an emergency. Call me back.”
The fourth one.
“I swear to God if you’re ignoring us because you’re still mad about dinner—this is really immature. We have a major problem and you’re the only one who can help. Pick up your phone.”
The fifth one.
“Fine. You know what? I get it. You’re upset, but can you please just put that aside for one second and help us?
“Please. I’m asking nicely. Just call me back.”
The sixth one was Brad.
“Hey, man. It’s Brad. Look, I know things got heated at that dinner, but we really need you right now. Something happened with our house, and Olivia’s losing her mind. Can you just call us back, please?”
I sat there listening to these messages, feeling absolutely nothing. No guilt. No concern. No urge to call them back.
Just a weird sense of calm.
They needed me.
Of course they needed me, because I was always there when they needed something, right? The reliable backup brother who drops everything to solve their problems.
Except I wasn’t their brother anymore.
They’d made that clear.
I didn’t belong in their family, remember?
I deleted the voicemails and went to bed.
The next day, I decided to do something I’d never done before. I reached out to my cousin Trevor. He lives a few states away, but we’d always gotten along when we were kids. We’d just drifted apart over the years—probably because my family never prioritized those relationships.
I called him up, and we talked for two hours. I told him everything that had happened.
He wasn’t even surprised.
“Dude, I’ve been watching them treat you poorly for years,” Trevor said.
“I stopped coming to family events because I couldn’t stand seeing how they acted toward you. Your sister’s always been a spoiled brat, and your parents enabled it completely.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” I asked.
“Would you have listened? You kept showing up, kept helping, kept hoping they’d change. Sometimes people need to figure this stuff out on their own.”
He was right.