I was never his first choice

Chapter 3

That evening, my mother called us home for dinner. Only then did I remember it was Irene's birthday—and mine.

Arthur had picked the cake.

"You share a birthday. One cake is enough for both of you. It's easier that way."

It was a beautiful cake, but thick pieces of peach showed between the layers. Irene loved peaches. I was allergic to them. No one seemed to think anything was wrong.

Arthur busied himself putting in the candles, then placed a birthday hat on Irene's head.

"Irene, make your wish first."

I looked at the peach cake, at the hat on Irene's head, and at Arthur's gentle smile.

"Arthur, you always buy two of everything else. Why is there only one birthday cake? And why am I always the last one to choose?"

The living room went quiet for a moment. Arthur frowned.

"We've always done it this way. What's gotten into you today?"

My mother gave me a hard look too.

"Irene is your older sister. Besides, what isn't she better at than you? Of course we should put her first. If you were half as accomplished as she is, I wouldn't have to worry about you all the time."

I couldn't say another word.

Irene began making her wish, and the whole family gathered around her to sing Happy Birthday.

By the time it was my turn, the candles had almost burned down. Arthur glanced at them.

"We don't have any more candles. Making a birthday wish is just a formality, Lydia. You can make one next year. It won't make any difference."

It had been 25 years. Every year, they told me to wait until the next one. But my turn never came.

'Do children have to be exceptional to deserve love?'

I watched them divide up the cake, my mind far away.

Somehow, the conversation turned to the wedding. My mother suddenly asked me, "How are the wedding preparations coming along?"

Before I could answer, she'd already turned to Arthur.

"Arthur, a lot of your guests are prominent people in your field, aren't they? Why don't we use the wedding to show that series of paintings Irene entered in the national painting competition?"

Arthur smiled and agreed without a second's hesitation.

"Of course. We'll replace the presentation about our relationship with Irene's work. She can speak for a few minutes, and we'll put all her paintings on display."

Irene smiled.

"You don't have to go to all that trouble. I'll just say a few words. I don't want to steal Lydia's thunder."

Arthur looked at her.

"Of course we're going to make an effort. If we're doing this, we're doing it properly. I'll take care of it."

The three of them launched into an enthusiastic discussion about where to hang the paintings, when to show them, and whether they needed promotional signs.

It was supposed to be my wedding. Instead, it was turning into Irene's solo exhibition. No one had asked what I thought about any of it.

Fortunately, there wasn't going to be a wedding.

I could hardly breathe in there anymore, so I went back to my room.

Arthur and my parents were waiting in the living room for the results of Irene's national painting competition to be announced on a livestream. They stared at the screen so intently that even their breathing grew quiet.

I packed my things. There wasn't much anyway. The only thing I took was the album tucked at the very back of my drawer, filled with the pressed plant specimens I'd been making since I was little.

Irene won first place.

Cheers erupted outside my room. I heard laughter, applause, and excited shrieks. Then I heard Irene's petulant complaint.

"But the awards ceremony is on the same day as Lydia's wedding. None of you can go with me. It's one of the biggest days of my life. It's so sad that I'll have to go alone."