My Family Chose Her And Lost Me Forever Chapter 03
I was woken by voices in the driveway.
I pulled the curtain back. Everyone was dressed and gathered around Dad’s car. Lily had a shopping tote over one arm. She spotted me at the window and waved.
“Anna! Aren’t you dressed yet? We’re heading into the city — thought you were coming!”
“Since when?”
She held up her phone. “Ryan posted in the group last night! Did you not see?”
I pulled out my phone. Nothing.
“Which group? I didn’t get anything.”
“Oh — the one we—”
Ethan cut across her with a small cough. “The — the family group. Just for dumb stuff. Memes and whatever. Didn’t want to keep buzzing your phone.”
He tapped his screen twice.
My phone buzzed.
The group name came up.
👑 Team Lily 💕
Five members. Mom. Dad. Ryan. Ethan. Lily.
Five people. A whole family.
“Get dressed, honey — we’re waiting!”
I turned back inside and grabbed the first shirt off the chair. Halfway into it, I heard the engine turn over in the drive.
I ran downstairs. The car was already reversing out of the driveway.
Ethan was at the wheel, Ryan was riding shotgun, and Mom, Dad, and Lily were squeezed into the back.
Every seat taken.
I stood on the porch with my shirt half on.
My phone buzzed.
No room, babe. Just stay home, okay? I’ll bring you something back. x
I looked at the message for a few seconds.
Ok.
I slipped the phone into my pocket and watched the taillights disappear around the corner.
……
Standing there in the empty drive, I thought about the first summer Lily came.
Mom had brought her up the stairs by the hand.
“Anna, honey. This is your sister now. You’ll share your bed, right?”
I moved over against the wall and pushed half the pillow toward her.
Six months later Mom came in with an armful of bedding and looked at the two of us.
“You’re both getting too big. The bed’s too narrow now.”
She laid a comforter on the floor.
“Anna, you sleep down here. Lily’s a nervous sleeper — she needs the bed.”
Mom remembered Lily was a nervous sleeper. She’d forgotten I’d had bronchitis every winter since I was six. That the doctor had told her, more than once, that I shouldn’t be sleeping on a cold floor.
By the second winter my knees ached whenever it rained. They still do.
The year after that, Mom moved my comforter to the couch in the living room.
“Lily says she’d like her own space, honey. Just make do on the couch for a bit.”
Mom knew a girl needed privacy at that age.
She’d forgotten Lily and I were the same age.
By the third year I’d been moved into the mudroom off the back kitchen. Twelve square feet. No window. Water heater, ironing board, stacked back issues of National Geographic going back to the nineties. One bulb on a pull chain.
Four years I lived there.
Half a bed. Floor. Couch. Mudroom.
And now, not even a seat in the car.
My phone buzzed. I thought it was Ethan.
It wasn’t.
Kenya Airways: your ticket for ET837, SFO – Nairobi, August 27, is confirmed. Please check in two hours before departure.
They got back after dark.
“Anna! We’re home!”
Lily dropped a shopping bag on the couch, beaming.
“Got you something!”
Ethan pulled a small box out of his jacket.
“Didn’t want to leave you out. Peace offering.”
I opened it. A thin silver bracelet. A small charm.
“Thanks.”
Something in me eased, just slightly.
Lily was drinking water at the counter, still buzzing with excitement.
“Anna, guess what — we got such a great deal! Your bracelet? It was an add-on with the necklace—only ten bucks extra!”