A fifth consecutive month of hosting a Sunday family dinner was coming to a close. After everyone left, I looked at my sink full of dishes and got to work. I was scraping a piece of stubborn, burnt rice off of a pot I used to cook seafood paella in. It was then that I realized something. It was the first Sunday dinner I could recall in which my baby sister was not referred to in any capacity. It was as though she never existed.
Recently, I was stopped at a red light on my way to my girlfriend’s house. I looked over to my backseat to see the play kitchen set Heather had given to me to give to Megan. It was one of many things she had been handing down to her for my niece to use. It had been sitting there for close to two months. I then looked back at the road in time to notice the traffic light change, shook my head, and pressed my lips tight together.
While driving, I thought about the last time I saw my sister. It was a couple of days before Halloween. She brought my niece along and we chatted over coffee and apple crumb cake while Zoe plopped herself on the linoleum floor and explored my record collection. At one point, she pulled out A Tribe Called Quest’s “Beats, Rhymes and Life” from the shelf. We took a couple of pictures together and looked at some more records. While they were walking down the stairs to leave, Zoe looked up at me, visibly upset, and waved goodbye to me. I waved back fearing it would be the last time I’d see her or my sister for a while.
It’s been five months since then. I continued driving. I thought about the fact that she missed a third straight Thanksgiving dinner with us. About having only seen my nephew once in 10 months. I was gripping the steering wheel tighter. About her not acknowledging her own nephew. About her lack of responsibility. Tighter. About what she was doing to our family as a whole. I pulled into Heather’s driveway and slammed my car door.
Upon entering her house, I kissed her hello.
“You ok?”
“I decided that you should take that kitchen set back… I’m tired of Megan just taking and taking…and …not giving anything in return.”
“I’m sorry.”
A few weeks later, the play kitchen set had been replaced with Christmas gifts that Heather and I got for Zoe and my nephew. Despite my family’s best efforts, Megan decided to skip out on another Christmas dinner with us. The last time I talked to her was to wish her a Happy New Year early in the night. During our conversation, she informed me that I would be an uncle again. Initially, I expressed excitement but I couldn’t help but think of another empty chair at our dinner table. The next day, I ordered a new pot with the money I received as a Christmas gift. That rice had done a number to my last one.
