I Hope This Doesn’t Find You

by Ann Liang

I blink. The room is spinning again, faster than before. “But . . . I’m not allowed to. I shouldn’t be having fun and throwing parties and—and doing the wrong things. I’m not supposed to cause any trouble.” “Who told you that?” she asks. “Who said you weren’t allowed?” Nobody, I realize. But nobody ever had to tell me. It was enough for me to cower behind the wall as my parents fought, enough to watch my father leave, to feel the doors trembling in his wake. It wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me.

“I almost wish that we had fought more, that we’d cared enough to challenge each other and bicker over the little things. Better that than just swallowing our resentment and staying quiet until we couldn’t take it anymore.”

“All you do is work and study and live for other people,” she goes on, gesturing to the stacks of textbooks on the floor, the shiny awards and sports trophies on the bookshelf. “Yes, you help out a lot, and I’m very grateful for it; the bakery wouldn’t be running without you. But I’d much rather see you enjoying your teen years while you can. I worry that you’re going to look back when you’re twenty or forty and all you’ll remember is your desk and the dishes. Really, it would ease my guilt if you did.”

“You’re so strange sometimes, Sadie,” Rosie continues, though she doesn’t sound like she’s being unkind. “You know most people rush to push blame away instead of taking all of it themselves, right?”