She threw up her hands.
“It was a joke!”
“It wasn’t funny to me.”
Camille shook her head.
“Oh, please. You always act like the victim. Nobody forced you to pay for everything. Nobody asked you to become the family’s personal bank.”
I opened my mouth to argue.
Then
I stopped.
NEXT PAGE
Because somewhere inside her angry words was a small piece of truth.
No one had physically forced me.
I had volunteered again and again.
I’d convinced myself that doing more would finally make everyone appreciate me.
“You’re right,” I said quietly.
Camille stared.
“What?”
“No one made me do those things. I chose to help. For years. And I also chose to stop.”
She seemed uncertain how to respond.
Then I asked something that had been bothering me.
“Camille, why were both your credit cards declined?”
Her expression changed.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
