“Hey, sweetie. Melissa thinks it’s better if you sit this one out this year. She feels like you take attention away from Ryan. Please respect her wishes.”
I read it twice. Then again.
Sit this one out.
Like Ryan’s birthday was a game I could skip.
My throat went tight. I tried to breathe, but the words looped in my head like a bad echo.
Respect her wishes.
The cafeteria noise blurred away. I called Dad right there, not caring if anyone heard.
“Dad, what the hell is this?” My voice came out sharper than I meant.
On the other end, he sighed, that long, world-weary sound I’d grown up hating. “Britt… it’s not me. Melissa just thinks it’ll be less complicated if you don’t come this year.”
“Less complicated?” My voice cracked. “I’m his sister. What’s complicated about that?”
“Please don’t make this harder,” he said quietly. “She just… she wants Ryan to have a family celebration. No outsiders.”
Outsiders.
I couldn’t speak. My hands shook so bad I nearly dropped the phone. I hung up before I burst into tears.
That night, I cried anyway. Ugly, hiccuping sobs in my dorm bathroom until my eyes swelled red.
The week blurred past in shades of gray. Ryan’s birthday loomed, every thought tinged with dread. I’d already bought his gift—a Lego rocket set, the one he’d been dreaming about for months. I wrapped it in shiny blue paper, drew silver stars all over it, and added a card with us in spacesuits, holding hands on the moon.
It sat on my desk like a ghost, daring me to accept I wasn’t welcome.
Saturday came. I tried to convince myself to stay in pajamas, eat ramen, and let the day pass. But around two, when I knew the party was in full swing, the horn blared outside.
I peered out the window. Grandpa’s truck sat at the curb, old and stubborn like him. He stood by it, arms crossed, eyes blazing.
I opened the door. “Grandpa?”
“Grab the gift,” he barked.
“What?”
“I know everything. Your dad’s gone spineless, and that woman’s out of line. Get your shoes on.”
My heart pounded. “She said I’m not allowed—”
“I don’t care what she said,” he snapped. “You’re Ryan’s sister. Nobody erases that. Not today. Not ever.”
I hesitated. “But what if she makes a scene?”
Grandpa’s lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. “Then we’ll make a bigger one. Now move.”
The drive felt like heading into battle. Grandpa didn’t turn on the radio, didn’t say much, just gripped the wheel tight like he was holding back a storm.
When we turned onto Dad’s street, balloons bobbed at the mailbox. Cars lined the driveway. Music and kids’ laughter drifted out of the backyard.
I shrank in my seat. “Grandpa, I can’t—”
“You can,” he cut in. “And you will.”
We parked. My legs trembled as we walked up the steps. Grandpa opened the front door without knocking, like he owned the place.
The music dimmed, conversations faltered. Adults turned to stare. Melissa stood near the cake table, wearing a white dress more suited for a cocktail bar than a kid’s birthday. Her smile dropped the instant she saw me.
“What is she doing here?” Her voice sliced the air.
Before I could answer, Grandpa stepped forward. “She’s here because this is her brother’s birthday. And you don’t get to decide she’s not family.”
Gasps rippled. Melissa’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t your decision, Harold.”
“No,” Grandpa said firmly. “But you made it yours when you uninvited her.”
The silence cracked—until a small voice broke through.
“Sissy!”
Ryan burst from the kitchen, his face lighting up like fireworks. He barreled into me, hugging me so hard I nearly dropped the gift.
“I thought you weren’t coming!”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I whispered, tears burning. “Never.”
He saw the Lego box and gasped. “It’s the space one! You remembered!”
He shouted to his friends, “My sister got me the best present ever!”
The room buzzed again, but Melissa’s face had soured like spoiled milk. She stormed toward me, heels clicking like gunfire.
“You had no right,” she hissed. “I told you—”
Grandpa stepped between us, steel in his eyes. “No, Melissa. You had no right. That girl changed Ryan’s diapers, read him stories, showed up at every game. She’s been more family than you’ve allowed her to be.”
Dad appeared then, looking like he wished the ground would swallow him. Melissa turned to him. “Are you really going to let this happen? At my son’s party?”
I stepped forward, voice shaking but steady. “He’s your son, yes. But he’s also my brother. And you don’t get to erase that. I belong here.”
The room held its breath.
Grandpa pulled out his phone. “You want to talk about what’s appropriate?” he said, raising it. “Because I’ve got screenshots of your Facebook posts. Calling Britt an outsider. Saying you wished she’d stop coming around.”
Gasps again. Melissa froze, color draining from her face.
Dad finally spoke. “Melissa… this isn’t okay. You went too far.”
Ryan tugged my sleeve. “Why would Mommy say that? You’re my sissy.”
I hugged him tight, whispering, “I’ll always be your sissy.”
Melissa faltered, muttered something about “not meaning it like that,” and disappeared into the house, cheeks burning. She never came back out.
The rest of the party was magic. Ryan glued himself to me, dragging me around, showing me every present, introducing me to his friends. At cake time, he shouted, “Sissy sits next to me!”
As he leaned close to blow out his candles, he whispered, “I wished you’d always be here.”
My throat closed. I smiled so hard it hurt.
Later, when most guests were gone, Dad approached, shame weighing down his shoulders. He didn’t look me in the eye at first.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally.
“For letting her do this?” I asked.
He nodded. “I thought I was keeping peace. But I see now… I wasn’t being fair to you. Or Ryan.”
I didn’t hug him. Not yet. But I nodded. “Thank you for saying that.”
“You’ll always be part of Ryan’s life,” he promised quietly. “No matter what.”
Grandpa just smirked from the grill, like he knew all along how this would play out.
And as Ryan fell asleep later, clutching his new rocket Lego, I realized something: no one—not Melissa, not Dad’s silence—could erase what Ryan and I had.
Because family isn’t about who allows you in. It’s about who runs to you, arms wide, shouting your name.
And Ryan had already made his wish.
