The Unloved Son Who Built an Empire

The same four dishes of cold scraps, the same soup bowl, and all four of their rice bowls were still sitting on the table.

From the bones Adam and Tessa had left behind, I could just make out what the meat courses had been tonight: cola chicken wings and salt-and-pepper ribs.

The garlic bok choy had gone stone cold, three leaves and no more floating on the oily broth.

There wasn't a drop of soup left today. All of it struck me as unbearably pointless.

That knot of fire in my chest that had burned all day had gone cold now.

I touched my cheek and realized only then that at some point my whole face had gone wet with tears.

I didn't turn to fight with my parents. There was no point.

I took out my phone and snapped a photo of the leftovers first, then sat down at the table and ordered delivery.

When the food arrived, my mother asked me with a startled look, "Didn't we save you dinner?"

I didn't answer her, just opened the bag and started eating on my own.

Her face went sour. She gave a little scoff and marched straight into the living room to watch TV.

Tessa glanced over once, then dropped her head back to her show.

My father frowned but said nothing either.

Adam was a smart one. He felt the mood in the house had turned, so he stopped angling for approval and quietly watched the game.

The air in the house went strange all at once, nothing but the sound of the television and the sound of me chewing.

When I finished, I bagged up my own trash and dropped it in the bin.

Then I turned, got my change of clothes, and moved from shower to bed in one smooth stretch.

The leftovers on the table, nobody mentioned them and nobody touched them.

They were like me. Overlooked by the whole family, left in a corner.

The next day I got up early as usual, washed up, and got ready to leave for work.

My mother, for once, called me back.

Not the way she reminded Adam to carry more cash when he went out, to be generous when he ate with his friends.

Not the way she fussed over Tessa about whether she'd brought her keys, warning her not to get too much sun while she shopped at the mall.

It was an accusing tone. "Nathan, what's gotten into you?"

I looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"We saved you dinner and you wouldn't eat it, you had to order delivery instead. You didn't clean up either. The bowls and chopsticks on the table, you acted like you couldn't see them. You never used to be like this."

That line of hers, you never used to be like this, drove into my chest like a poison needle, aching and numb at the same time.

"Because I didn't want to eat leftovers anymore."

I looked straight at my mother and said it one word at a time.

"Tessa doesn't have to do chores because she's a girl, otherwise it'd be favoring boys over girls. Adam doesn't have to do chores because he's the youngest."

My voice was calm as dead water.

"But Mom... how did I get so unlucky, being a boy and the older brother both?"

My eyes seemed to startle her. She stumbled back a few steps, her voice disbelieving. "So even saving you dinner is something we did wrong now?"

"Is that what you call saving me dinner? You saved me a pile of pots and bowls to wash."

The words were barely out when my mother's hand cracked across my face.

She spat out, "Fine. Wonderful. So you've grown up, your wings are hard now. From now on we won't save you any dinner, and it won't matter how much you beg."

With that she turned and carried the spoiled dishes into the kitchen, banging them around in the sink to vent, making the noise as loud as she could.

I didn't look back. I turned and walked out the door.