She stops, and they share a long look. My father leans in, whispers something to her in Spanish that I don’t understand but is something along the lines of “No somos nuestros padres.” Something about them being parents. Or their parents? Or a type of parents?
I can’t be sure. Whatever he says, it causes her demeanor to shift.
My mom turns back to me, her brow furrowed, and asks, “If not law school, then what?”
“I’m still figuring that out,” I say. I consider admitting that I’ve tried out a few things but again decide to keep it to myself. That can wait until winter break. Or maybe spring break.
“If you don’t have a clue what you want, how can you rule out law school?”
“Law school is the only thing Ihaveruled out.”
That hurts her feelings, I can see it on her face.
“Okay. No law school,” she says finally.
“You should focus on what makes you happy, JoJo,” my father says. “That’s the most important thing. And if you decide what makes you happiest is going into medicine, well…”
His words bring a faint smile to my face, but it’s quickly wiped off.
“Are you kidding me?” Sierra cries, her voice a screech.
Here we go.
“Where was this mindset whenIwas her age? I have to be a doctor, but Joey just needs to behappy?”
“What are you saying, mijita?” my father asks. “You’ve wanted to be a doctor since you were a little girl.”
“Yeah, because I knew that’s whatyouwanted.”
Everyone freezes. My mom, my dad, even myself.
Never, not once, have I ever heard Sierra say anything about not wanting to be a doctor. Even all those years of complaining about medical school always came across more like virtue-signaling than anythingelse—Medical school issohard, but I know it’ll be worth it for all thoselivesI’ll be saving, et cetera.
Sierra continues. “You really think when I wassix, I had any clue what it meant to be a doctor? No, all I knew was that you were a doctor, and I wanted to make you proud. And it worked. So here I am, in medical school, and Ihate it. But perfect little Joey is four months into college and having her little freshman crisis, and you’re okay with it? Are you joking?”
“That isn’t fair, Sierra. Don’t take your frustrations out on Joey—she didn’t do anything to you,” my mom responds, to my surprise.
“She didn’thaveto. You do it for her. You allow her to get away with everything—”
“Hey,” I cut in, but the moment she turns, her ire focused on me, I regret it.
“You are so selfish, and all they do is coddle you. If I’d pulled what you just pulled, they would have told me I was setting a bad example because anything I did, you would blindly copy. So that’s all I ever was—the example. The test run. The leader. It didn’t matter what Iwanted, only that I set a good example foryou. Everything in your life has been easier because you had me there to do it first.”
I can acknowledge that the struggles my sister and I have endured have been different by the nature of our birth order. But for her to dismiss any pressureIexperienced growing up is, quite frankly, bullshit.
I know how tonight looks through her eyes. I’m the bratty, insolent younger child, acting however I want because my parents went too easy on me.
She’ll never know that Ididtry to appease our parents. That I did my damnedest to become good at litigation so that I could follow in my mother’s footsteps and make her proud. And when that didn’t work, I went into a different area of law. It felt like a decent compromise. I could be a lawyer without trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.
I could still make my mom proud.
Only I couldn’t. I wasn’t good enough. Not for my sister. Not for my mom.
At a dinner much like tonight’s, Sierra lost it on me, calling me selfish. Everyone thought so, she informed me, even if they didn’t say anything, but she would say it for them. She told me, in no uncertain terms, that my mom was disappointed in me.
My mom couldn’t quite deny it. “I didn’t saythat,” she had hedged. “All I said was that I wished that you had gone into a different area of law, one that helps people, instead of—”
“Instead of lining your own pockets,” my sister had finished. As if her job didn’t line her pockets just fine. Butshedeserved it. She wassaving lives, after all.
