Chapter 3

I thought my dad actually cared. Then his next text came through and killed the small softness rising in me.

"If you're not coming, walk the dog more while we're gone. It's been cooped up too long, and I'm worried it'll get depressed and miserable."

Ha.

I laughed at it inside, cold, and let go of even the little I'd expected from them.

They worried about a dog getting depressed and unhappy from being shut in too long, and not one of them had ever worried about how I felt.

As if I ranked lower than the dog.

I sat there watching my little nephew until the sky went dark, and by eight that night he was bawling from hunger again.

I swallowed the collapse rising in me over and over, held myself back from doing anything I'd regret, wiped my eyes, and picked him up.

Fed and settled, he still took me half an hour of soothing before he finally fell asleep.

My phone buzzed more than once while I did it, picture after picture popping up.

They'd found pretty scenery on the road and posted a whole stream of photos in the big family group chat, plus gifts and food they'd bought at the rest stops.

Lily Abbott had bought two huge plush dolls, the same kind of character I loved, and she was so happy she snapped a few shots and tagged me in the group.

"Auntie, you like these dolls too, right? Want me to grab one for you as a present?"

Lily was the sweet one, the only person in the family who thought of me at all. I was just about to say no thanks when my mom fired off three messages underneath, turning it down for me.

"How old is your aunt now? What would she do with a doll? Stop wasting money!"

"Besides, Dorothy didn't say she wanted anything. None of you buy her a thing, or you'll get something she doesn't like and won't be able to return."

"Everyone see my message? Reply if you got it. Don't buy Dorothy anything!"

A few "got its" came back a moment later, and I quietly deleted every word I'd already typed out.

Two hours after that, they reached the coastal city and had checked into the hotel in groups.

My brother and Megan had their couple's getaway; my parents took Kevin and Lily, and the whole crowd sat down to a big seafood feast.

Kevin was fascinated by all the seafood and snapped several photos to show me, casually quizzing me on whether I'd ever seen any of it.

"Dottie, you country bumpkin, have you ever seen little crabs like these? And these little sea snails. So pretty."

I didn't reply, and they didn't care. It was like I was a bottomless hole they could dump anything into whenever they felt like it.

After the photos, Kevin sent a few videos, gleeful as he held up a little crab for me to see.

"Dottie, bet you've never seen any of this. Want me to bring a few home for you to play with?"

In the background, my mom cut in.

"Don't bring any back. Your sister's allergic to seafood."

"I'm bringing them for her to play with, not eat."

"She's still allergic!"

The video ended with my mom smacking the little crab out of his hand, and the dead memories started clawing at me again.

I remembered how, when I was little, my mom told me I was allergic to all seafood, milk, and eggs.

Every time the family ate any of it, she'd get so anxious about shielding me, drilling it into me again and again that I couldn't touch it, couldn't even smell it, or it could easily kill me.

I thought she really cared, so every time they ate, I obediently hid in my room.

Until the New Year's Eve the year Megan first married into the family, when they got to talking about the reason for my so-called allergies.