Two weeks before that Christmas, I found something worse.
My father had asked me to help him set up a new laptop. While I was moving his old emails over, a long chain popped up between my mother and my aunt Ruth in Oregon. It was dated years back. Right after Clara died.
I shouldn’t have read it. I know that.
But I saw my own name, and I couldn’t stop myself.
My mother had written: “Orion’s always been unstable. Too emotional for a man. We love him, but he just doesn’t handle life well. Honestly, I worry about that little girl being raised by him alone.”
I sat in my father’s study and read that line six times.
It hit harder than any rejection I’d ever had.
She’d built a whole story about me. Long before Lennon was old enough to drive. Long before any Christmas dinner.
So the night they sent my daughter home hungry, it wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t an accident.
It was tradition.
I printed that email out. I don’t know why. I put it in the blue folder with everything else.
And three weeks before Christmas, Sienna called me.
I was standing in my backyard taking out the recycling. My breath was making little clouds in the cold air.
Her name lit up my screen. I already knew what the call would be about. She had a certain sweet voice she used when she needed something.
“Hey, big brother,” she started, stretching the words out like taffy. “So, you know Nova got into that STEM summer camp? The one at the university? It’s this incredible opportunity. Twelve hundred dollars. But totally worth it. And I figured you of all people would understand. You value education so much.”
She said the word “education” like it was a key meant to unlock my wallet.
“I’m really glad she got in,” I said. “That’s great. But I can’t help with that one, Sienna. I’m already covering the house, the utilities, and Mom and Dad’s insurance. You might want to check if the camp has scholarships.”
The silence on the other end cracked like ice.
When she spoke again, all the sweetness was gone.
“Wow,” she said flatly. “Must be nice. Having everything and still being stingy.”
I didn’t reply. I just ended the call and watched the screen go dark.
I didn’t think about that call again for a while.
I should have.
Ethan Blake is a skilled Creative Content Specialist with a talent for crafting engaging and thought-provoking narratives. With a strong background in storytelling and digital content creation, Ethan brings a unique perspective to his role at TheArchivists, where he curates and produces captivating content for a global audience.
Ethan holds a degree in Communications from Zurich University, where he developed his expertise in storytelling, media strategy, and audience engagement. Known for his ability to blend creativity with analytical precision, he excels at creating content that not only entertains but also connects deeply with readers.
At TheArchivists, Ethan specializes in uncovering compelling stories that reflect a wide range of human experiences. His work is celebrated for its authenticity, creativity, and ability to spark meaningful conversations, earning him recognition among peers and readers alike.
Passionate about the art of storytelling, Ethan enjoys exploring themes of culture, history, and personal growth, aiming to inspire and inform with every piece he creates. Dedicated to making a lasting impact, Ethan continues to push boundaries in the ever-evolving world of digital content.