Part 2They Forgot I Had No Passport

My phone buzzed again. It was a text from my mother.

"Stop acting out. Get on a plane."

I stared at the glowing text for a long time before typing back:

"Mom, I'm telling you the truth. I do not have a passport."

That message went unanswered. Two days passed without a single word.

On the fifth day, my mother called again.

"Chloe, you're really pushing it now. Your father and I have been worrying about you non-stop while you're back home living in luxury, ignoring your family. Do you have any respect for this household?"

I was standing in the back room of a local boba shop. My hands were red and numb from hauling buckets of ice.

I took a deep breath, reciting the same sentence I had spoken a dozen times before. "Mom, I don't have a passport."

My mother lost her temper. "Stop lying! You and Tina went to the government agency together. I drove both of you myself. Do you think I've completely lost my mind?"

I closed my eyes, and the memory of that afternoon flashed vividly behind my eyelids.

Yes, we had gone together.

When we arrived, my mother had pulled her purse open, taken out the family's vital documents and Tina’s ID, and hurried her out of the car.

I had pushed my door open to follow them, taking only a couple of steps before my mother turned back. She looked at me, a brief flicker of realization crossing her face before it was replaced by complete indifference.

"Oh, sweetie, I forgot to grab your birth certificate and Social Security card," she had said casually. "It's fine, we'll just do yours next time. We'll get Tina's sorted out today since she's the one who really needs it."

I had stood on the hot concrete outside the government building, watching their backs disappear through the glass sliding doors.

I had waited by the car for nearly an hour in the sweltering heat. When they finally came out, Tina was laughing, her arm looped securely through my mother's. My shirt had been soaked with sweat, my lips cracked from dehydration.

I opened my eyes. "Mom, that day you only brought Tina's documents. You told me we’d do mine next time. There never was a next time."

Silence stretched over the line for two agonizing seconds. Then, my mother’s voice erupted, defensive and shrill.

"That is impossible! Why would we only bring your sister's documents and leave yours? You're making it sound like we did it on purpose. Why do you always have to twist things into something malicious?"

"I didn't say you did it on purpose—"

My father's voice boomed in the background. "That is exactly what you're implying, Chloe! Have we ever mistreated you? Everything your sister has, you’ve had too. You probably just lost your own documents and now you're trying to blame us for your own carelessness."

Tina’s soft, sniffling whimpers joined the chorus. "Chloe, please... we applied for them together. Why are you lying? It breaks my heart to hear you talk to Mom and Dad like this. Is it because we forgot to book your ticket first? Are you just trying to hurt us?"

She paused, letting out a trembling sob. "If it really bothers you that much, I'll destroy my passport. I don't want to vacation anymore. I'll fly back and stay with you, okay?"

My father’s tone instantly softened into a protective, comforting murmur. "Do you hear that? Look what you've done to your sister. Keep your mouth shut."

My mother cooed softly to her, "Sweetheart, don't cry. You're breaking my heart." Then, her voice turned to ice as she spoke back into the receiver. "Chloe, you need to look in the mirror. How has this family ever failed you? What are you trying to accomplish with this pathetic drama?"

"I—"

"Go think about what you've done."

The call ended.

I stood in the cold back room of the shop, holding my phone.

Surprisingly, I felt no anger. I felt no sorrow.

I only wondered: "What does Tina have to cry about?"

She had received every drop of affection, every privilege, and every concession this family had to offer. Why did she always get to play the victim?

Shouldn't I be the one crying?