My family told me I wasnt welcome on the cruise I paid for, because my father wanted it “family only.” So I kept the penthouse suite booked under my own name, dropped every one of them into the cheapest cabins on the ship, and let them find out exactly what happens when the person footing every bill finally stops being anyone’s ATM.
This time, there were no matching clothes.
No perfect arrangement.
Dad’s shirt was wrinkled.
Lauren’s hair was a mess.
Mom was laughing before the camera was ready.
Bree had a drink in her hand.
I stood in the middle.
Not because I had paid.
Not because anyone needed me.
Just because I was there.
The photographer counted down.
Three.
Two.
One.
The flash went off.
Weeks later, I framed that picture.
It still sits in my living room.
Not as proof that my family became perfect.
They didn’t.
Dad still gets stubborn.
Mom still avoids conflict.
Lauren still occasionally overspends.
I still have the urge to rescue everyone.
