Chapter 2

It was almost laughable when I thought about it.

I had been invisible to my family for six years, and not one of them noticed.

One holiday, during a family dinner, there were eight people at the table but only seven chairs.

Taryn said, "Dayana, go get a stool from the kitchen."

So I did.

By the time I came back, Danielle Foster, Larry's wife, was sitting in my spot.

I stood there for a moment, holding my bowl.

I said, "Mom, I'll just eat in the kitchen. It's too crowded here."

"Fine," she said without looking up. "There are leftovers in the pot. Help yourself."

No one asked Danielle to move.

No one saw anything wrong with the situation.

I ate my holiday dinner alone in the kitchen.

And I was the one who washed all the dishes afterward.

Larry and Danielle were watching TV in the living room.

Taryn was peeling an orange for Danielle.

Finlay was dozing on the sofa.

No one set foot in the kitchen.

The day I moved was even more of a joke.

I moved from a room in a rundown part of town to my current place on the eighth floor of a building with no elevator.

I made eleven trips up the stairs alone.

The boxes weren't that heavy, but the stairs were steep.

On the sixth trip, my legs gave out, and I had to sit on the landing for ten minutes just to catch my breath.

When Larry moved, Finlay got four relatives to help, and Taryn cooked a huge pot of brisket to celebrate.

I never told my family I was moving.

It wasn't that I didn't want to. After all, I knew no one would come.

I learned that lesson when I was living in a place with a leaky roof. I had called my mom at two in the morning. "Mom, the ceiling is leaking. I don't know what to do."

"Call your landlord," she muttered. "Why are you calling so late? Larry has work in the morning."

I never called for help again after that.

As for my birthday, I had long since given up hope.

Two years ago, on my birthday, I sent a message to the family group chat: [It's my birthday today. Is anyone free?]

Taryn replied: [No. Busy.]

Larry didn't respond at all.

Danielle, however, sent a thumbs-up emoji.

After that, nobody said a word.

Setting the phone aside, I went down to the market and picked up a box of pastries on clearance for six-eighty. I finished three by myself in the dark. The other three I saved in the fridge for breakfast.

But on Danielle's birthday, Taryn sent 38 messages to the group chat, documenting everything from the cake and Larry's gift of a diamond bracelet to my nephew posing in his party hat.

Taryn's caption read: [This is what a family is all about, everyone celebrating together.]

I looked at the pictures.

They were a family, one that simply didn't include me.

The year Larry got married, I only had about two thousand dollars to my name.

Taryn called. "How much are you giving for Larry's wedding gift?"

"Mom, money is a little tight for me right now..." I said.

"Two thousand," she said, setting the amount.

"Mom, my rent is due..." I tried to explain.

She argued, "You're single. What do you spend money on? This is Larry's wedding. Don't embarrass the family."

I had to borrow five hundred dollars from a coworker to scrap together the two thousand dollars.

On the day of the wedding, I gave them the gift envelope and spent the day serving drinks, arranging plates, and greeting guests.

After cleaning up the tables that night, I found a quiet corner to sit and rest.

Larry walked over. "Hey, Dayana. Thanks."

That was the only thing he said to me. Then he put his arm around his bride and went off to toast their guests. I watched them laughing together.

Danielle's wedding dress cost twelve hundred dollars.

The most expensive coat I owned was a clearance-rack find from seven years ago that cost me forty dollars.

Two months later, Taryn called again. "Larry needs three thousand for a down payment on a car."

"Mom, I haven't even paid back the money I borrowed for the wedding..." I said.

She yelled, "Larry only makes one thousand dollars a month. How is he supposed to save anything? You at least have a decent job."

"Alright," I agreed.

I ate bread for two months to pay back my coworker and scraped together another three thousand dollars from my paychecks.

The day Larry drove the car home, the whole family was ecstatic.

Finlay said, "Good, you're finally getting somewhere."

Larry told everyone he had saved the money himself.

Taryn just smiled and said nothing.

I stayed quiet, too.

Last year, Taryn was hospitalized for gallbladder surgery.

Larry called me. "Dayana, Mom's in the hospital. You need to chip in."

"How much?" I asked.

"The surgery and hospital stay will be around five grand. I really can't swing it right now."

I paid twenty-eight hundred dollars.

I have no idea how much he paid.

I took time off work to stay with Taryn at the hospital. I changed her dressings, helped her wash up, and ran her lab samples up and down the floors.

Larry visited once, for twenty minutes. Danielle never came. On the day she was discharged, Taryn held Larry's hand and said, "Larry, you're a busy man. Just go on ahead."

I pushed her wheelchair down to the lobby.

Larry's car was parked right out front. He rolled down the window. "Mom's all yours, Dayana. I've got stuff at the office."

Then he drove off in the car I had made the down payment on.

I started pushing the wheelchair toward the bus stop.

Taryn said, "Larry works so hard. Don't be upset with him."

"Alright," I said.

The wind was sharp. So I took off my own scarf and wrapped it around Taryn's neck.