Chapter 5
I rented a one-bedroom apartment.
It wasn't very big, but it was close to my office.
The first night I moved in, I didn't bother unpacking right away.
I sat next to my suitcases, watching as travel photos kept popping up on my phone.
Claire was sitting in the cable car, and Evan was helping her with her seatbelt.
She was leaning against the window, fast asleep, her head resting on his shoulder.
And in a video Dad took, Evan was carrying two suitcases while Claire walked ahead, not carrying anything.
Mom laughed and said, "Claire's always had people looking out for her since she was little."
I turned off my phone.
The next day, I went back home to pick up my passport and birth certificate.
No one was home. Their trip wasn't over yet.
There were ten photo albums lined up on the living room bookshelf.
Every time they came back from a trip, Mom would make a new album with their photos.
The cover said: [Our family's first trip.
[Our family's second trip.]
This went on until the tenth trip.
I picked up the first album.
That year, I was eighteen and graduated from high school.
In the photo, Mom, Dad, and Claire were standing by the sea.
Claire was wearing the white dress I'd picked out for her.
They were holding up a sign that said, [Happy Graduation.]
I was the one who got the acceptance letter.
But I wasn't there at the beach to celebrate.
The second album was about the snow-capped mountains.
The third was about Mom and Dad's silver wedding anniversary.
The fourth was about their first trip abroad.
Evan started showing up in the eighth album.
He held an umbrella for Claire, snapped photos of Mom, and kept Dad company while he drank.
In the ninth album, he and Claire were wearing matching raincoats, standing together on a glass bridge.
The tenth album was about last year's trip.
It was Mom's birthday, and the four of them were gathered around the cake.
Evan was standing next to Claire.
They were all smiling so naturally, like a real family.
I stepped back and bumped into the bookshelf.
A few fridge magnets fell to the floor.
Those were the souvenirs they brought back for me from every trip.
Mom always said those gifts meant everyone was thinking about me.
As I crouched down to pick them up, I noticed a few file bags tucked away at the bottom of the bookshelf.
Each bag was labeled with a year.
Inside were all the trip paperwork from past years.
It recorded hotel bookings, trip confirmations, and lists of names for ticket reservations.
I was trying to check if my passport was in there, but I saw something surprising.
The first booking was paid for on June 10th.
The photo of the draw that year was taken on June 13th.
Turned out they'd already booked tickets for three people three days before the draw.
My name wasn't on the list.
The next year, they booked the tickets five days before the draw.
The year after that, they booked them a whole week ahead.
It was always the same.
They'd already bought the tickets.
They'd decided Claire would go.
And they'd decided I'd be left behind.
The draw was just for show.
Three years ago, Evan's name started showing up on the list.
He already knew the result of the draw before he went on his first trip with them.
I took out my phone and snapped pictures of each booking confirmation and every photo from the draw.
Then, I heard the sound of the door unlocking.
Mom came back ahead of schedule.
She saw me crouched in front of the bookshelf and hurried over.
"Who allowed you to go through this stuff?" she snapped, reaching for the files.
I dodged her. "Why are all these bookings made before the draws?"
"Why not? You always buy tickets early when they're cheaper," she said.
"What about my tickets?"
"You ended up staying home anyway. Buying a ticket would've been pointless."
"So you already knew I wasn't going, even before the draws?"
Mom pressed her lips together.
"That was ages ago. Why are you bringing this up now?" she said.
I put the files back into the bags.
"I want to know the truth. When did you start lying to me?" I asked.
Mom snatched the file bags from me.
"You came all the way home to rummage through your parents' stuff because of a few trips?
"What would people think if they found out?
"How did you end up like this?" she snapped.
All I wanted was to get to the bottom of why I'd been left behind for ten years straight, but instead, she was blaming me for going through her stuff and having no manners.
I heard Claire's voice in the hallway.
She was back early, too.
When she spotted the photo albums on the table, she rushed over, took them away, and hugged them to her chest.
"Summer, don't touch my stuff," she said.
I asked her, "Why do the covers say 'our family's trip,' but I'm never in any of the photos?"
Claire frowned. "Because you never went, remember?
"Why would someone who wasn't there be in the albums?
"Mom and Dad always brought you gifts. What more do you want?"
She hugged the albums tightly to her chest and headed straight for her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
I grabbed my papers and held them tight, ready to leave.
As I reached the door, Mom called out from behind me, "Summer, we were worried the store would be left unattended.
"You're the most capable one. It made sense for you to stay.
"As parents, we always have to think about the whole family."
I didn't turn around.
"So you never once thought about how I felt," I said.
Mom didn't say a word.