My Mother’s Favorite Lesson Killed Me

"Don't you think you went too far? Ethan wouldn't even talk to me today. He was shaking the whole time, and his head's bleeding."

Mom's eyebrow arched. I flinched.

I knew that look. Whenever she made that face, I was the one who ended up paying for it.

She tossed the spatula down, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, so now I don't know how to raise kids? Being a stepmother is so hard. Haven't I been good to your son? That cut on his forehead? He did that to himself—banged his head on purpose. I didn't lay a finger on him!"

Then came Dad's endless apologies.

But Mom only grew more aggrieved.

"We agreed from the start to treat each other's children the same. Tell me—have I ever skimped on feeding him or clothing him?"

Dad sighed. In a family like theirs, keeping things fair was nearly impossible.

"You're good to my son, and I'm good to your daughter, aren't I? That five-thousand-dollar summer camp—I paid it without blinking."

I crouched nearby, listening to them list all the ways they'd been good to my brother and sister.

Jealousy gnawed at me. Why couldn't I be them? Wasn't I their child too? Why did they only care about each other's kids?

They'd never treated me that way.

"I keep feeling like we've let Lily down. Have we been too hard on her? She's not being mistreated at Rita's, is she?"

I looked up at Dad.

Dad, I was hurt. They cut open my stomach. It hurts so much.

Whenever Ethan or Chloe were wronged, Mom and Dad stood up for them. Maybe this time, they'd stand up for me?

Mom scoffed.

"What's she lacking? Food? Clothes? I just asked her to stay somewhere else for a few nights, and she threw a fit like I was abandoning her forever."

But Mom, I really was cut to pieces and thrown away.

She pulled out her phone to call Rita. It rang for a long time before anyone picked up.

"Hello? Rita? What's all that noise? The kid wants to eat out? Rita, you spoil her too much."

"You're taking her back to your hometown for a few days? Sure, I'll leave her in your hands. I'll come pick her up soon and thank you properly!"

I paced in frantic circles.

"Mom, that woman's lying! She went to play mahjong. She's not watching me at all. Why would I be out eating with anyone?"

Mom believed every word.

She hung up and slammed the spatula against the wok.

"These kids are going to be the death of me. At least this one's ours—I can actually discipline her. If she were like her brother and sister, I'd lose ten years off my life!"

Dad thought for a moment, a hint of worry in his voice.

"You don't think something's wrong, do you? That she's in some kind of trouble?"

Mom waved him off.

"What trouble? Rita's from my hometown. She'll take good care of her. If you ask me, that girl's having the time of her life!"

But Mom, your hometown friend isn't exactly reliable.

My family was strange.

Ethan was Dad's son. Chloe was Mom's daughter.

After they married, they had me.

They'd both been through marriages that left scars. Dad's first wife got sick—really sick—and killed herself so she wouldn't be a burden. Mom's first husband died in a truck accident on a rainy night, trying to earn more money for the family.

Both of them died when the love was still raw.

Mom and Dad didn't marry for love. They married so their children could have a complete family.

On the wall hung a framed piece of calligraphy. It read: Treat them as your own.