If anyone deserves that money, it’s Camille, not you. That was the first thing my mother said when I told them. No hug, no congratulations. Just that cold, direct, like she had rehearsed it. We were sitting around the dinner table, the same table we’d gathered at four birthdays, thanksgivings, and all the other moments that were supposed to mean something. But that night, the air felt sharp.
Forks stopped moving. My father looked up from his plate, surprised but silent. Camille, of course, smirked like she had been expecting it all along.
I had just won $2.5 million in the lottery. I still remember the way my hands shook holding the ticket, the way the air seemed to leave the room when I double-checked the numbers at the gas station. And yet here I was, trying to share a little joy with my own family and my mother, was already giving it away.
To Camille, she said it with a kind of finality, like it was obvious, like the universe had made a mistake choosing me. You know she’s been struggling, Mom continued, her voice rising slightly as if to defend something no one had questioned. She has dreams, Janelle.
She could really turn her life around. With that kind of money, she has no job, Mom, I replied softly, trying to keep my voice from shaking. She hasn’t worked in over a year.
She moved back home and she’s finding herself, my mother snapped, gets to work some safe little desk job and play it easy. I glanced at Camille. She was twirling her fork, looking pleased with herself.
Her makeup was perfect, as usual. Her nails were done, her smile effortless. She looked like a reality show version of a little sister.
And maybe that’s how Mom always saw her, a beautiful mess who deserved to be saved. Meanwhile, I was just, they’re reliable, the invisible one. The one who paid her bills showed up on time and never made a scene.
I’m not saying I won’t help anyone, said carefully, looking down at my plate, suddenly no longer hungry. I just need time to think. It’s a lot to process.
Well, time is a luxury, Mom said sharply, says family has been holding you up for years. I don’t think it’s asking too much to share what was basically a fluke, a fluke. That word stung more than I expected.
Like the universe hadn’t meant for me to win. Like I had stumbled into something that didn’t belong to me. Dad cleared his throat.
Let’s not turn this into something ugly. Camille finally spoke. It’s already ugly, Dad.
She’s sitting here acting like she earned that money with her blood, sweat and tears. It was a lottery ticket. That was the moment I realized this wasn’t a misunderstanding.
This wasn’t just shock talking. This was what they believed. They believed I didn’t deserve it.
I had always known Camille was the favorite. She had that glow, that magnetism, that ability to make people forgive her before she even apologized. In school, teachers bent the rules for her.
Boys fell over themselves. And Mom. Mom looked at her like she was sunlight.
Meanwhile, I was always practical Janelle, the one who made lists, followed rules, stayed out of trouble. But somehow being reliable had made me invisible till now. I pushed my chair back slowly.
I didn’t come here to start a fight, I said, folding my napkin and setting it on the table. I came here because I thought maybe we could share something good. Maybe we could just be a family for once.
You want to share something? Camille cut in leaning forward. Then give me the check. I haven’t deposited it yet.
I said I needed time. It was the first moment I saw genuine interest spark in my mother’s eyes. Her posture shifted.
Dad looked up again. More alert now. Camille smirk returned wider this time.
You’re carrying it around? Mom asked too quickly. That’s not safe. I nodded.
I know. I just dot. I wasn’t sure where to go from here.