I need to convince Wren to give this up.
CHAPTER 6
WREN
“So,Claire-bear, where are you jetting off to next?” my mom asks across the dinner table as she twirls her vegan fettuccine Alfredo around her fork. All night, this is what we’ve talked about. Claire and her latest international aid trip with Doctors Without Borders.
Now that my parents have exhausted every avenue of whatClaire-bearhas been up to for the last six months, they’ve moved on to something new—whatClaire-bear’splans are for thenextsix months. It’s as if they never talk to her, when I know for a fact Claire calls Mom and Dad more than I do. She even visits more than I do. She’s down here in Heartwood almost every other weekend. What more could they possibly have to catch up on?
Meanwhile, I haven’t been home in almost a decade, but no one seems to care.
“You make it sound like I’m going on some expensive tropical vacation or something, Mom. I’m going to Central Africa. Rwanda, actually. They’ve been wrapped up in thisawful civil war in the Congo. They need extra hands at the medical centres,” Claire replies, reaching for a dinner roll from the basket in the middle of the table. Her answer causes Mom’s expression to fall, a wrinkle forming between her brows.
“Oh, I know, honey. I hate to think of you putting yourself in harm’s way. It’s easier for me to imagine you lying on a beach somewhere.”
“I’m not planning on going for a few months anyways, and only if work allows me to take more time off.” Claire is always trying to appease our parents, and she’s always so good at it. I grind my molars together as I stifle my annoyance. I’ve never been able to figure out how she does it.
“Does it bother Kevin, having you go away all the time?” The mention of Claire’s husband makes me realize he’s not here. He normally attends family dinners.
“Kevin doesn’t get a say about what I want to do,” Claire says, taking a long pull of her wine.
“She’s doing good work, Brenda,” my dad inserts. “Selflesswork.”
Puuuuke. I gag on my dinner.
“Everything all right with your pasta, Wren?” My mom notices how I’m choking it down. The vegan sauce isn’t my favourite, but it’s the conversation making me nauseated.
The thing is, as much as Claire flaunts that she’s a doctor, she does care about her work, and she cares about the people in all the countries she visits. But Mom and Dad will talk about Claire to anyone who will listen, and it’s performative.
I give my mom a forced, closed-mouth smile and nod.
“It’s great, thanks.” I refrain from saying how I feel. Ilearned from a young age that sometimes it’s best to smile and nod and not give my parents any more reasons to favour Claire over me. Because if one of them has an issue, it’s fine. But as soon as I say anything, suddenly I’m looking for an argument.
The dinner table finally goes quiet, and the lull is a sweet reprieve. Once I finally swallow my bite of noodles, I break the silence, hoping to capitalize on the opportunity to steer the conversation elsewhere.
“I got the contract for the arts centre today.” My dad sets his fork on his plate with a clank and stares at me for a moment. The sound of Claire chewing makes my eye feel twitchy, but I carry on. “It’ll be good for VanTek. They’ve been trying to branch out to more work for municipalities, broaden their portfolio. My boss was thrilled when I told him. I’ll get promoted to principal if it all goes well.”
It’s not news about travelling to a war-torn country to save lives or anything, but it feels like a success for me. It’s a big success. It means my company might recover from their shady dealings, and I might earn a promotion for bringing in more work at a critically low point in the firm’s history.
And okay, it wasn’t like I had tofightfor it. Shelley practically handed it to me. But no one needs to know.
“That’s great, sweetie,” my mom offers, but her praise feels as bland as the pasta.
“Yeah, Wren, that’s awesome,” Claire jumps in, and her words almost sound sincere.
“Aren’t you up for a promotion as well, Claire-bear?” my dad interjects. Good, we’re back to talking about Claire. She looks up from her plate, a long string of noodles hangingfrom her pursed lips. She slurps them up and swallows before answering.
“Well, I wasn’t going to mention it yet. It’s not a for sure thing. But I am going to apply for the emergency medical director position at Banff General.”
Now I choke on my pasta, a noodle sliding down my throat and making me cough and sputter. No one looks my way except Claire. She’s staring at me with assessing eyes, like she’s worried I’m going to take away from her big moment.
“Oh, Claire!” My mother throws her hands up, narrowly avoiding knocking over her glass of wine. “We’re so proud of you!”
I’m fine, everyone. Don’t pay attention to me, I’m only choking to death, I think.
I finally catch my breath again, but now it feels shallow and tight, my heart rate picking up. Claire finally looks away from me, and my breath evens out a little bit more. My news was supposed to give me a leg up tonight, but now the hill I have to climb to get any scrap of recognition from my parents is much higher.
“Don’t get too excited yet, Mom. Like I said, I still have to apply, and there will be a lot of other applicants. It also means I might not be able to take time off for my international trips anymore, so I haven’t decided if I even want it yet,” Claire says.
