I glanced at my brother, not even out of middle school and already heavyset, then down at my own scrawny uniform.
No words came out...
I felt like a rat peeking out from the sewer, spying on someone else's happiness.
Mom, am I not your kid too?
Eventually, Karen and Jim got the divorce papers signed.
I ended up with Dad, and Johnny stayed with Mom.
She finally got what she'd always wanted—full custody of her son.
I wonder, without me there to sacrifice, will they still be happy?
Once the divorce was finalized, Jim was quick to head back to his overseas job.
He planned to send me to a boarding school, just like he had arranged for Johnny before.
But I refused.
When Grandma was still with us, she ran the household since Karen was mostly out playing cards, only coming home to eat.
When she won, she'd bring little toys for Johnny.
Picking him up, she'd coo, "Missed Mommy, sweetie?"
But when she lost, it was a different story.
I was her target, always finding some fault to yell about.
After blowing off steam, she'd lighten up and say, "Be good, Jessie. Mommy doesn't like it when you misbehave."
I was always good. I learned all the chores from Grandma, hoping it might make Karen love me a bit more.
By third grade, I was cooking full meals.
After Grandma passed, I took over all the chores.
So, looking after myself was no big deal.
Jim knew it too. He just gave me a bank card and set up a regular transfer.
That was enough. Love might be scarce, but at least I had money.
Today was the moving day for Karen and Johnny.
They were relocating to another building in the same complex.
I remember they lived there in my past life too.
Karen had chosen it just to be closer to her son.
If there were any open units in this building, she'd have moved right next door.
I watched the whole ordeal from my door, crunching on an apple.
Karen was sweating it out, hauling boxes in and out.
Meanwhile, Johnny was sprawled on the couch, yelling obscenities at his video game buddies.
Quite the scene.
Back then, I felt sorry for her and thought she was too frail to handle the move. I did all the heavy lifting, and even hurt my back in the process.
I tried to get some sympathy by playing the helpless girl.
"Kids don't have backs. Just rub where you said it hurts and be tough."
Her response was less than sympathetic.
"Your brother helped a lot and didn't complain once. Stop whining."