Some people say blood is thicker than water. What they don’t tell you is that sometimes, blood can drown you.
I’m Justin, 26, and I’ve spent my life watching my parents choose my sister over me.
When they skipped my wedding for her, my best man turned their absence into something unforgettable.
Growing up in Millbrook felt like living in my sister Casey’s shadow.
She’s 32 now, six years older than me, and she’s perfected the art of making everything about herself.
When we were kids, I’d score the winning goal at my basketball game, and Casey would suddenly develop a mysterious stomach ache that required immediate attention.
A young girl shrugging beside an annoyed teenage boy | Source: Freepik
My high school graduation? Casey had a “panic attack” about a job interview the next week.
My college acceptance letter? Casey’s boyfriend broke up with her that same day.
“Justin, you understand, right?” Mom would say, her hand already reaching for her purse to drive Casey somewhere. “Your sister needs us right now.”
Dad would nod along, patting my shoulder with the kind of absent gesture you’d give a dog.
“You’re tough, kiddo. You get it.”
But I didn’t get it. I never got it.
When I proposed to my girlfriend, Veronica, last spring, I made a decision.
I sat my parents down in their kitchen, the same one where I’d eaten countless dinners alone while they dealt with Casey’s latest crisis.
“Look, I’m getting married in October,” I said, my hands gripping the edge of the table. “And I need you both to promise me something. Promise me Casey won’t hijack this wedding.”
Mom laughed, that tinkling sound she made when she thought I was being silly.
“Oh, Justin, don’t be so dramatic. We’ll be there. It’s your wedding day!”
Dad leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed.
“Besides, what’s the big deal? It’s just a party, right? You cut a cake, dance a little, and boom, you’re married!” He chuckled at his own wisdom.
“We raised you better than to be a bridezilla.”
“It’s not about being dramatic, Dad. It’s about showing up for once.”
“We always show up,” Mom said, but her eyes were already drifting toward her phone. Casey had probably texted.
“When?
When have you ever shown up for me without Casey needing something?”
They exchanged that look, the one that said I was being unreasonable… the one I’d been seeing my whole life.
“We’ll be there, honey,” Dad said finally. “I promise.”
The weeks leading up to the wedding were like watching a slow-motion car crash. Casey started small, testing the waters.
“So, about this bridesmaid dress,” she said during a family dinner, twirling her fork in her pasta.
“Pink really isn’t my color. It washes me out completely.”
“It’s dusty rose,” Veronica corrected gently. “And it’s what we chose for the wedding party.”
Casey’s smile was sharp as broken glass.
“Well, I guess some people look good in anything. Others need colors that actually complement their skin tone.”
I felt Veronica’s hand tighten on mine under the table. “Casey, you’re not even in the wedding party.
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