My Birthday Gift Was Servitude

Start Reading

In our family, we decided birthday gifts by lottery draw.

For my sister Vivian's birthday, she drew a new phone, cash, and a diamond necklace.

For my brother Brandon's birthday, he got Lego sets, a PlayStation, and designer sneakers.

Only me? For ten years straight, I drew the same thing: doing all the household chores for the entire year.

Today was my eighteenth birthday. I prayed silently, and pulled out a crumpled paper ball.

The familiar words stabbed at my eyes. I crushed the paper in my fist until it deformed.

Brandon burst out laughing.

"Annie, your luck is seriously cursed!"

Mom quickly put away the lottery box, washing her hands of it.

"It's your own bad luck, honey. Don't blame us."

Before I could even look up, Dad shoved a brand-new apron into my hands.

I wasnt having it. While they were still laughing at me, I opened the lottery box and unfolded every single paper ball.

Ten slips. Every single one said, "Do all household chores for the entire year."

...

Brandon plopped down at the dining table, complaining loudly.

"Finally! Can we eat? Annie, next birthday, draw faster. The salmon's getting cold."

Mom and Dad and Vivian settled around the table, chatting and laughing. No one noticed me.

Mom automatically ordered me,

"Go get the soup from the kitchen. And wash a wine glass for your father."

The empty chair beside her, closest to the kitchen, was mine.

Vivian suddenly went, "Huh?" and pointed at my face.

"Annie, are you crying?"

Then she snorted a laugh.

"Don't tell me you're crying because you're touched?"

Before I could answer, Dad cut in impatiently.

"Enough drama. It's just a birthday. Hurry up with the soup and wine."

Yeah. My birthday.

I'd washed, chopped, and cooked every dish on this table myself.

Looking at them, I slammed all ten slips of paper onto the table.

Everyone froze. My parents looked away, embarrassed. Brandon and Vivian ducked their heads slightly.

But not a single one of them looked surprised.

So, everyone in this house knew.

On my birthday, I only ever drew chores.

"Why?" My heart felt shredded as I screamed the words.. "Why have my birthday 'gifts' been chores for ten straight years?"

Mom flushed crimson, standing up abruptly.

"Fine! Fine! I'll do the chores from now on! I deserve it, right? I'll just be your slave!"

She kicked her chair back, heading for the kitchen. Vivian grabbed her arm.

"Mom, you work so hard already. Let me do it."

Mom squeezed Vivian's hand, patting it gently.

"You're so thoughtful, sweetheart. Not like some ungrateful wretch."

Her eyes flicked to Brandon. He immediately made an 'X' with his arms.

"I'm a guy! Im not doing chores! And Im busy!"

Mom glared daggers at me.

"I never should have taken you back. Youre nothing but trouble."

Taken me back?

So I could be kicked around like a soccer ball forever?

Until I was eight, I lived hand-to-mouth.

Grandpa raised me until he got sick at three.

After that, I bounced between Uncle Mark's, Aunt Carol's, and three other relatives' houses.

I wasn't brought back here until I started elementary school.

I tried so hard. I did chores diligently. Terrified they'd send me away again.

I couldn't go back to being tossed aside like trash.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I softened my voice, trying to reason with them.

"Could... could my birthday gift this year be a bike? I don't want to..."

I didn't want to waste study time crammed on the bus anymore.

But Mom, accidentally splashed by hot soup, exploded before I could finish.

"Annie Miller! Are you deliberately trying to start a fight? Where am I supposed to get a bike at this hour?"

"It's your birthday! The whole family's celebrating you! We made this huge dinner, bought a cake! What more do you want?"

The whole family stared. Their eyes were pure blame and disgust, like I was some kind of monster.

A bitter laugh choked inside me. I grabbed the untouched birthday cake and smashed it on the floor.

"Fine... Then I won't be in your way anymore."

I wiped the tears off my face, turned, and slammed the door behind me.

I stood by the elevator. My parents rushed out after me.

My father, his anger finally boiling over, exploded.

He yanked me out by my shirt collar.

"What the hell are you playing at, running off at night? Haven't you embarrassed us enough?"

"I can't stay in this house being the live-in maid anymore!" The words ripped out of me, years of hurt and fury finally unleashed.

I'd always been meek and obedient. This was the first time I'd ever talked back.

Dad froze for a split second. Then, his hand swung. The slap cracked against my cheek, sending me stumbling into the wall.

My mother stood behind him, shaking her head.

"You just have to push your father until he snaps. Wonder where you picked that up."

She grew more impatient, finally snapping, "I can't deal with you! Go wherever you want!"

Vivian looked me up and down with contempt.

"Trying to get out of chores? You didn't need to make such a scene."

Brandon rolled his eyes so hard I thought they'd get stuck.

"Playing runaway? Please. You'd come crawling back the second they actually kicked you out."

For ten years, since I came back, they'd always threatened that.

Any little thing that displeased them, they'd actually lock me out, make me sleep on the street all night.

I was so terrified of being abandoned. I tried harder. Worked harder. Got better grades.

I thought if I was good enough, perfect enough, I'd finally belong. Be part of this family.

Now I saw it. I was always just an outsider. Someone they could throw away anytime.

My voice choked with sobs, I screamed at them.

"You don't need to kick me out! I'm leaving!"

I ran out of the building.

Only then did I realize it was pouring rain.

I stood frozen at the entrance, clutching my stinging cheek. Nowhere to go.

The only place left was school.

I grabbed a discarded piece of cardboard to hold over my head and ran to the bus stop.

A black sedan sped past, splashing filthy water all over me.

I looked down at the old sweater Vivian had discarded. Now it was covered in mud, soaked through, clinging to me.

Rain mixed with dirty water ran from my hair into my eyes.

For ten years, I'd only worn Vivian's hand-me-downs. Even my underwear was hers, only when she didn't want it anymore.

Clothes that were too short, too tight, too long. Not a single piece of clothing that fit me properly.

All the humiliation, all the hurt, crashed over me. I couldn't hold it back. I crouched by the roadside and sobbed.

Suddenly, the black sedan screeched to a halt in front of me. The driver jumped out with an umbrella, frantic.

"I'm so sorry! So sorry! Are you okay, sweetheart?"

I looked upthrough my tears at a familiar face.

As she got closer and saw my face clearly, she froze.

"Olivia? Olivia Miller?"

I was crying too hard to speak properly. I managed a shaky, "Aunt... Aunt Carol?"

Aunt Carol took me straight to her place and ran me a hot bath.

When I came out, towel-drying my hair, she was just returning with several shopping bags.

"Olivia, try these on! See if they fit. I ruined your clothes, so Aunt Carol gets you new ones."

I peeked inside. Designer clothes from Nordstrom. They were all brand-new, from labels I only knew from magazines. The price tags made my fingers tremble.

"Aunt Carol, this... it's too much! I can't!"

"My old sweater wasn't worth anything, I'll just wash it"

Aunt Carol's eyes filled with pity. She pulled out a coat and draped it over me.

"You're still so thoughtful."

After I tried on the clothes, she asked, "Sweetheart, why were you out in that storm? Why not go home?"

The tears welled up again.

Just then, her daughter Autumn walked over with a mug of steaming bowl of soup.

"Here, sis. Drink this before you catch a cold."

She wore her hair in a ponytail, dimples showing when she smiled. Just as cute as when we were kids.

During my years bouncing around, I'd lived with Aunt Carol for a year.

Later, Aunt Carol had to move to San Francisco for work and couldn't take me.

That's when Mom had reluctantly brought me 'home.'

They were only back in town now because Autumn was here to take her SATs.

Aunt Carol suggested I let my family know I was safe.

I opened my phone. Vivian had posted.

A picture of the whole family gathered around the dinner table, laughing happily.

Not one person asked if I was safe. If I was coming home.

Mom had even commented snidely underneath:

[Some people think they're so special. Like this family can't function without them?]

Dad added:

[Let's see how long she lasts. No money, no friends. Where's she gonna go?]

Brandon chimed in:

[Her? She'll be back begging on her knees in three days tops.]

I put my phone down. I didn't tell them where I was.

For the next while, I stayed with Aunt Carol, focusing on my SAT prep.

Aunt Carol made identical breakfasts for Autumn and me. She drove us to and from school.

One Friday after school, Autumn and I waited for Aunt Carol outside the gates. I spotted Dad's car.

It hit me then. He picked Brandon up every day.

Brandon and I had gone to the same schools since elementary.

But all those years, Brandon got driven home. I took the bus.

I'd never once ridden in Dad's car.

"Olivia! Get in!" Autumn waved from Aunt Carol's car.

I snapped out of it, climbed into the warm car, and didn't look back.

After two weeks at Aunt Carol's, I felt awful imposing.

"Aunt Carol... I think I'll apply for the dorms. I've bothered you long enough..."

Aunt Carol was stuffing files into a suitcase. She stopped and looked at me.

"Olivia, there's an emergency at the office. I have to go back to San Francisco. Autumn's scared of the dark. Could you stay and keep her company for a while?"

Seeing the plea in her eyes, I couldn't say no.

After Aunt Carol left, Autumn brought her pillow into my room, clinging to me like when we were little.

We ate together, slept together, even went to the bathroom holding hands.

A housekeeper cooked. A driver took us to school.

It felt unreal. Too good to be true.

Sometimes I'd wake up at night, panicked, thinking I'd forgotten to do the laundry.

Two months passed. Our class was holding a parent-teacher conference day..

That's when I saw my parents for the first time since I left.

I had just walked up to the third-floor classroom happily.

I'd ranked first in the class again. But as I reached the door, I felt the weight of stares from the parents gathered inside..

Two parents near the front didn't even try to hide their disdain.

"Tsk tsk. Who'd have thought? So young and already trading favors with old men."

"No wonder no one came for her conference. Probably too ashamed!"

"That Burberry coat she's wearing? Over a grand. Wonder what she traded for that."

I was baffled. Trading favors? Old men?

There must be some misunderstanding. I opened my mouth to explain.

Mr. Davies stormed in, face like thunder, clutching test papers. The stern Vice Principal followed him.

I stayed quiet, slipping into my seat.

The VP slammed the eraser down on the desk, staring straight at me.

I squirmed under his gaze, instinctively looking down.

Mr. Davies cleared his throat.

"Some students in this class," he boomed, "have no shame. Disgraceful behavior! Bringing shame on the entire class!"

The room fell deathly silent. Only breathing sounds.

"I won't name names. I'm giving you one chance to confess."

"Do the right thing. Stand up now, in front of all the parents and students, and apologize!"

His voice echoed. Kids waiting in the hallway crowded around the windows, ears pressed to the glass.

I jumped, terrified. Didn't dare breathe.

The next second, a piece of chalk hit me square on the forehead.

A lump swelled instantly, sharp pain radiating.

Every parent's eye was on me. I felt like a thousand needles were pricking my back.

Humiliation and fury choked me. Tears spilled over.

"I didn't... This coat was a gift from family! I don't know any old men..."

Before I could finish, the classroom door flew open.

Mom stormed in, finger jabbing at me. Dad followed, looking mortified.

"Annie Miller! You're dropping out! Get your things and come home! You might not care about shame, but your father and I do!"