Part 3My Last Walk Home

Whenever Mom went off like that, Sadie stood quietly beside her. Sometimes, she even spoke up for me.

"Aunt Florence, Vienna has it hard too. She can't hear well, so it's tougher for her to focus in class."

It sounded like she was defending me.

But every time she said it, Mom got even madder.

"Her hearing's bad because she did it to herself," Mom snapped. "If she hadn't been so stubborn that day—standing in the rain until she got sick—she wouldn't have lost her hearing."

I just stood there, apologizing over and over.

Promising I'd study harder.

Do better next time.

* * *

When I floated home, Mom and Sadie were eating dinner.

The food was still steaming.

Sadie loved cilantro, so Mom had put it in everything.

It was everywhere.

Just like Mom's love for Sadie.

I was seriously allergic to cilantro.

The last time I accidentally ate some, my lips swelled for three days, and a red rash crawled across my neck.

Mom took me to urgent care for meds, but still complained.

"Everyone else can eat cilantro just fine. Why do you have to be so difficult? If you're picky, just say that. Don't use allergies as an excuse."

After that, she still cooked with cilantro.

She said other people lived here too, and she couldn't plan every meal around me.

So every time we ate, I had to pick through my food and pull out every tiny green leaf.

Sadie ate quietly, like a perfect little angel.

Then she looked up.

"Aunt Florence, why isn't Vienna home yet?"

Mom's face darkened.

She set her fork down with a sharp clink.

"She's just like her father," she said through her teeth. "Stubborn to the core. She's obviously throwing a tantrum."

Mom picked up her fork, took a bite, then dropped it back onto her plate.

"I told her to walk home alone, and now she's giving me attitude? Seriously? Other kids ride the bus alone at six. Why can't she? She's doing this on purpose. She just loves pushing my buttons."

Sadie lowered her head and kept eating.

Mom got more irritated. She pushed her fork around her plate, grabbed a piece of beef, and chewed like she was mad at it.

"Everything I do is for her own good. Was I wrong for wanting her to be independent? Was I wrong for wanting her to quit relying on those hearing aids? And this is how she pays me back? Not even a little gratitude. I raised an ungrateful brat."

She looked at Sadie, and her voice softened.

"Sadie, you're the good one. You never make me worry. I wish you were my daughter."

Sadie gave her a shy smile and ladled soup into Mom's bowl.

"Aunt Florence, don't be mad. Vienna's probably just upset. She'll be back soon."

Mom took a sip, set down her bowl, and said in that same cold voice, "She can come back or not. I don't care."

Ever since Sadie moved in, Mom poured all her attention into her.

She used to watch me do homework. Watch me study. Watch every minute of my life.

Now she watched Sadie.

Homework. Studying. Performances. Competitions.

Sadie crushed it at school.

By the end of elementary school, she'd won one of the district's top academic awards and gotten into the best middle school program around.

In seventh grade, she ranked first on her very first unit test.

Mom bragged to everyone.

"Sadie got first in her grade."

I had to give everything just to place third in my class.

Mom leaned back on the couch without even looking at the report card in my hand.