No use?
She’s your daughter! That’s my sister!
But I didn’t say anything. I was a little too stunned to say anything, but even if I’d collected myself, I knew I didn’t have the courage to speak up against my father. I didn’t want to lose the path to becoming a future executive because I’d talked back to my father.
I didn’t have the guts Tara did.
“Are you firing her?” I finally said, afraid of the answer.
“Not yet.”
How reassuring.
“We have not found a suitable replacement for her work here in Albuquerque. But when the time comes, that will be that.”
Jesus.
“Can I trust you, Elizabeth, to run the Santa Maria office? You will have security there in the afternoon and evening should you need to work late.”
“I know, but—”
“Elizabeth, I just need a yes or no answer.”
I bit my lip.
“Yes.”
“Good, you may go now.”
Yes, boss,I thought with more sadness than sarcasm as I rose out of my seat and left the office, my father never once looking up at me or smiling at me. This was how this family operated. Not as a place full of love, but a place for business.
I walked back to the living room, but my mother was still staring ahead at the HGTV show. Perhaps she remained at work because she didn’t want to consider the alternative. If my father could so willingly plan to fire my sister because she wanted to explore her options, what would he do to his wife? What would he do…to me?
To some extent, I’d always held myself up as the more successful sister. I sought my father’s approval more and took on more projects than Tara. Some of that was because I worried Tara was seen as the “golden” child and I the “silver,” but some of that was just a genuine interest in taking on more work.
But still. Tara had to be valued more highly than any other employee there. To answer my question, if Tara was going to be fired, I could be fired.
I walked upstairs, knocked on Tara’s door, and listened to the beat of Linkin Park as my sister did something that didn’t stress her out like work. She opened the door and smiled, looking far too relaxed to live in this house.
“Elizabeth,” she said warmly. “Come on in.”
She led me in and shut the door.
“You’ve got clothes on the floor,” I said, cringing at the sight.
“My room, my rules,” she said. “When I have my own place, I’ll probably be a little cleaner. But for now, why not?”
“Because you don’t want Mom and Dad to kick you out sooner?”
I hated I was saying that seriously and not with humor.
“Well, I know Dad already has me out the door at NME Services.”
“So—”
She nodded.
“He told me this afternoon that I wouldn’t be going back to Santa Maria,” she said. “I’m not worried about it. I’ll still see Brock. And I can see the writing on the wall. I’ll find another job.”
