Hailey, my stepsister, constantly made it clear that I didn’t belong. She made me feel small from the first family dinner after my dad married her mother. She would force me into corners, tease me in a lovely way, and let me think that maybe one day she might be nicer. I continued holding out hope. I told myself that she would get over it. At my wedding, fifteen years later, she made sure that everyone knew who she was.
On the morning of the event, Hailey was really helpful. She stated she would “take care of the details,” called herself my big sister, fussed about the centerpieces, and even insisted on giving me the bouquet as I walked down the aisle, which she called “passing the torch.” For a moment, I let myself think that things had changed.
The chapel was exactly right. Roger, my father, stood next to me with tears in his eyes and pride in his heart. I took his arm and walked down the aisle. Two hundred individuals came to witness it. Hailey stood next to the carpet with a bouquet in her hand and a smile on her face. When we arrived to her, I reached for the flowers, and she made me fall. Her foot sprang out like someone who was used to being embarrassed. My heel became stuck, my ankle twisted, and I landed on my face on the stone. The blooms broke apart. People in the room gasped.
Hailey really was worried. She smiled and then said “Oops” in a voice that everyone could hear. Some people never learn how to walk with style. My dad helped me stand up. He kissed my forehead, brushed the dust off my dress, and then escorted me the rest of the way. Even though I had skinned knees and a twisted veil, Jacob and I got married. As Hailey walked through the reception, many felt sorry for her for the “accident” and made me look awkward. I kept my smile empty and my wrath to myself.
The next day, my knees hurt much more. I went to my dad’s house to drop off some decorations. Someone summoned Hailey into his office. I heard his voice before I saw her. It was quiet, controlled, and cold in a way I had never heard him before. “Hailey, sit down,” he said. I paused on the landing.
He asked, “Do you think I didn’t see what you did?” “You think I didn’t see how your foot shot out?” Did you see how happy you looked when she fell? Hailey stated it was an accident, but he wouldn’t allow her talk about anything else. He told her that family members don’t make fun of each other and that jealousy, not an accident, was what drove her. Then he told her the bad news: the $155,000 he had planned to give her as a wedding gift to help her buy the condo she wanted was going to someone else. He said, “Selena is getting that check now.” She fell down but got back up without making a big deal out of it. She did it with style.
Hailey exited the room pale and with mascara running down her cheeks. She mumbled, “This isn’t over,” but she was done with the struggle. My dad knocked on the door and handed me an envelope. “I should have done this a long time ago,” he said, admitting that he had tried too hard to keep the peace in our blended family and had forgotten to protect me. There was a check and a note inside the package that said, “For the daughter who never stopped hoping, trying, or being nice.”
I didn’t think it was about the cash. It was a symbol of respect. It was fair. It was the time when a problem that had been hurting them for years suddenly started to get better.
Three months later, we bought a house with that money, and today Jacob and I reside there. After the wedding, Hailey left. We haven’t talked yet. People sometimes ask me if I wish I had done things differently or if I regret how they ended out. You can’t make someone love you, and you can’t have a family if you only forgive them. My wedding wasn’t perfect. My stepsister tried to ruin the wedding. What mattered was what happened next: the private conversation in my dad’s office, the decision to stop waiting for her approval, and the choice to move on with my life.
The elevator of hope I had been riding for years suddenly stopped. I didn’t have to fight her. I had to stop hoping that she would change. I got my feeling of self back by letting go of that hope.
