Pets Are In The Chat, I’m Not

Chapter 4

It wasn’t like I’d never tried to win my parents over.

In elementary school, I came in first in my class and rushed up to my dad, report card in hand.

He was on the phone. He glanced at it, gave a distracted "Mm-hmm," and that was it.

That report card later got tucked inside an issue of Forbes and was never taken out again.

The day Caleb won his gold medal, Dad canceled every appointment, opened a bottle of 1982 red wine, and said "that’s my son" at least a dozen times over dinner.

I stood beside him, pouring the wine.

When he raised his glass, his eyes passed right over my head and landed on my brother.

He never really looked at me.

My mom saved a lot of people.

But whenever I was sick, she was never there.

During winter break my senior year of college, I had a fever of 104 and took a cab to the ER at her hospital by myself.

The nurse asked, "Where’s your family?"

I said, "My mom is a doctor here."

The nurse called the operating room for me.

My mom said, "I’ll deal with it after surgery."

That surgery lasted six hours.

I sat in an infusion chair, delirious with fever. The IV bag ran dry, and blood backed up a long way into the tube.

A passing nurse noticed, pulled the needle out for me, and muttered, "Where is your family? How could they let you come here alone?"

I smiled and didn’t answer.

Later, I saw my mom walking quickly toward the hospital exit, still in her white coat.

Her heels clicked across the ER lobby.

She passed within ten feet of me.

She didn’t stop.

She didn’t ask how high my fever was.

She didn’t ask whether I’d eaten.

That night, I saw Madison’s new video:

"Buttons Has a Cold and Mommy’s Heart Is Broken."

In the video, she held the guinea pig with red eyes, while my parents stood around her looking heartbroken.

Three million views.

The comments were full of "Don’t cry, Maddie" and "Stay strong, Buttons."

And I was alone in the ER.

The next day, I pushed open the front door.

The living room was exactly as I’d left it. Takeout boxes piled everywhere. The trash can knocked over.

My mom’s voice floated in first.

"Last night scared me half to death. Thank God Buttons is okay."

Then they saw me.

And the mess.

My mom frowned. "Riley, the house is a disaster. You couldn’t clean up?"

"I was at the hospital last night."

"What happened?"

"I had a fever of 104."

She paused. "I had a nurse call you. You’re a grown woman. Do you know how many surgeries I have in one day? How am I supposed to remember everything?"

I looked at her.

"But you remembered to come home for the guinea pig."

There was no guilt in her eyes.

Only impatience.

"Are you really that bored? Competing with Buttons for attention? Is that all you amount to?"

Is that all you amount to?

I heard something c***k inside my chest.

Softly.

Tiny.

Then twenty years’ worth of everything came rushing up at once.

"Really? You left your daughter alone with a high fever, then came home to fuss over a guinea pig, and you honestly think nothing is wrong with that?"

"If I’m worth less than a guinea pig to you, why did you even have me? Why didn’t you just make Buttons your daughter?"

She froze.

Then slapped me across the face.

"Riley Carter! Is this how I raised you? You spend all day whining that no one takes you seriously. Have you ever thought about why you live like such a complete failure?"

My father clenched his fist.

"Apologize to your mother."

Madison tilted her head at me, holding Buttons in her arms.

"It was just a fever. Why are you being so dramatic?"

The three of them stood there with the guinea pig, shoulder to shoulder, perfectly united.

I stood across from them, only two steps away, yet it felt like there was a whole galaxy between us.

Suddenly, I wanted to laugh.

"If there’s no place for me in this family, I’ll move out. From now on, just pretend this failure is dead. That way I won’t be such an eyesore."