Chapter 2 - The Trap is Set
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The invitation came exactly as I had predicted. It was a casual text message from my mother, delivered three days before the event, dripping with fake nonchalance.
"Hi sweetie," the text read. "Your father and I are having a small, casual dinner for Paige this Saturday at the club to celebrate her finishing her classes. Nothing fancy, just family and a few friends. Wear something nice but don't overdo it. See you at 7."
A small, casual dinner. My jaw tightened as I read the words while standing in my cramped, freezing apartment in New Haven. I looked at the dark circles under my eyes in the hallway mirror. I had just finished my final architectural thesis defense, running on three hours of sleep in the last forty-eight hours. I was broke, exhausted, and running on fumes.
I picked up my phone and typed a reply.
"Sounds great, Mom. I'll be there."
I didn't have the funds to buy a new dress, let alone something that would fit in at an eighty-five-thousand-dollar country club gala. I went to a local thrift store and managed to find a simple, understated black dress for twenty dollars. It was neat, it was clean, and it would allow me to blend into the shadows perfectly.
Over the next three days, I didn't say a word about my upcoming graduation from Yale. My parents didn't ask. They didn't call to see how my final exams went. They were too busy coordinating ice sculptures and floral arrangements for a community college certificate.
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As I drove my beat-up, ten-year-old sedan toward Connecticut's wealthiest zip code on Saturday evening, I felt a strange sense of calm settling over me. I wasn't going to this gala to celebrate my sister. I was going to collect the final piece of emotional resolve I needed.
For twenty-four years, I had held out hope that eventually, if I worked hard enough, if I achieved enough, my parents would finally look at me the way they looked at Paige. Tonight was the night I was going to bury that hope for good. I parked my car near the service entrance of the country club, smoothed down my twenty-dollar dress, and walked toward the grand ballroom. The trap was set, and I was walking right into it willingly.
