To understand why this moment was so devastating, you have to understand the decade of servitude that preceded it. I’ve been his backup plan since I was 16. When Jason crashed his first car—Dad’s used one—I was the one who drove him to school every day for a year, waking up an hour early to make a detour. When he failed two semesters at community college, I was the one who sat him down, rewriting his essays and making notes, only for him to drop out anyway because the professors were biased. I missed my own college prom because Jason had been arrested for underage drinking, and I had to go to the police station with Dad to bail him out so Mom wouldn’t find out and get mad. I had built my life on the architecture of sacrifice. I chose a high-paying career, supply chain management, not because I loved it, but because I knew I needed to be solvent. I needed to be the rock. And Jason—Jason was the kite. He flitted from one interest to another—DJing, personal training, investing in crypto—always tied to the ties of Mom and Dad and the money I gave him. But today, looking at Jason across the table, I saw something I hadn’t allowed myself to see before. I saw the antagonist of my life. He wasn’t just a failure. He was malicious in his incompetence. He wore a watch I knew cost $600. His haircut was a $60 fade. He smelled of expensive cologne. He looked sharp, healthy, and vibrant. Meanwhile, I sat there in a 10-year-old cardigan, hiding dark circles with concealer, stifling a cough that echoed in my ribs.
“So what’s the plan, Jace?” I asked casually. “If I pay your rent, what do you do all day?”
Jason shrugged, nicking away a bit of fat. “I’m going to become a full-time content creator.” I need to upgrade my photography equipment. In fact, since you’re helping out, I was hoping you might be able to pay for a new lens with your credit card. I can pay you back when the sponsorships start coming in.
“A lens?” I repeated. “How much does it cost?”
Like 1200, but it’s an investment, Mabel. You have to spend money to make money.
My mother nodded enthusiastically.
Exactly. Look, he has a business plan. He just needs capital.
Linda, my mother, was a retired school administrator. She knew how the world worked. She knew what a gap in the curriculum meant. But when it came to Jason, she was completely blind. She fed off his dependence. As long as he needed her, and by extension me, she had a purpose. She was the architect of his powerlessness. And Dad. I turned to Robert.
Do you agree? Do you think I should fund a lens while I pay the hospital bills? Robert wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I think you should support your brother’s dreams. You have a steady income. He has potential. Don’t be jealous, Mabel. It’s awful.”
Jealous. That was the word that severed the bond for good. They didn’t see me as a person. They saw me as a resource, a grain silo to raid when the golden boy was hungry. They saw my hard work not as a virtue, but as a reserve for Jason’s leisure. I glanced back at Jason. He smiled smugly. It was small and fleeting, but I saw it. He knew he’d won. He knew Mom and Dad would beat me until I caved. I’d probably given them instructions on what to say before I even arrived. He thinks he’s the star, I thought, with a cold clarity that washed over me. He thinks I’m just the merchant NPC who’s come to supply him for his mission. I took a deep breath. The air in the room felt stale, recycled. “I see,” I said. “So, the expectation is set. 2,000 a month plus equipment costs.”
“That’s not much for you,” Jason said indifferently. “How much do you make? 80,000.”
“110,000,” Dad corrected him. “He got that raise last year.”
They knew my salary. Of course they did.
