Passing the Baton

The evening began by ascending many carpeted stairs onto a floor with a dark wood bar the length of the wall prepared to receive requests from any angle. It was a country club bar, which I was told could make anything a person wanted. A silent auction was stationed between the cocktail and dinner areas; promises of objects and experiences displayed neatly on tall tableclothed tables. My brother bid on a variety of packages, allowing him to spend the evening feeling relieved and disappointed in rapid turns.

The woman sitting next to him throughout the main course told him about her sister, wanting him to side with her in some competition between them, but in the car on the way in, our mother—the recipient of the award around which the event was organized—said this woman was not living up to expectations in her job performance, and had been letting everyone down.

This woman was supposed to be taking over my mother’s position, yet it was obvious my mother didn’t have a high opinion of her. I understood my mother to mean no one would ever be good enough, but the woman in conversation with my brother was not proving herself to be very impressive.

When we were children, a common refrain of my mother was “Are you feeling short and unloved?” She would say this to belittle our feelings and ensure we limited approaching her with any problems we were having.

My brother continued to spend money throughout the evening, even purchasing these ridiculous hats with a sexually suggestive logo for his children. The logo was these coy young anime girls bashfully flirting with their bare legs long and extending, and it was a wool hat! He wasn’t always paying attention to these kinds of things, but I’ll tell you, he didn’t talk shit about me to a stranger at a country club eating cold chicken.

Questions from guests during the cocktail hour had made clear that they expected me to have knowledge and interest in the work of the organization, being the daughter of the award recipient. But that wasn’t my interest.

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Kayla Blatchley lives in Syracuse, NY.