My name's Jacob. I'm 28 and I haven't been on a proper vacation in over six years. Not because

Описание: My name's Jacob. I'm 28 and I haven't been on a proper vacation in over six years. Not because I couldn't afford it necessarily. I've always been decent with money. Careful even, but because every time I'd start thinking about booking something, some family emergency would pop up like clockwork, a broken down car, a surprise surgery, my niece's once in a lifetime, ballet recital across the country, and every single time the plea would come from my parents cloaked in guilt and packaged with the same tired words.
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 You know how much your help means to this family, right? I used to think I was being the good son, the responsible one, the unselfish brother, but now I think I was just the most convenient sucker. I'm not bitter by nature, or at least I didn't use to be. I grew up in a pretty standard middle class home in the kind of suburb where people smile at each other on the sidewalk, but still quietly judge the height of your grass.

My older sister, Vanessa, has always been the shiny one. You know the type, big personality, big hair, even bigger demands. She married her college boyfriend, Alan, who works in finance and walks like he owns every room he steps into together. They had two kids who I used to babysit when I was in high school for free while Vanessa ran errands, which usually meant getting her nails done or sipping wine with friends.

Meanwhile, I'd be wiping noses and burning frozen pizzas. Our parents, Deb and Frank, aren't Cartoonishly evil or anything. They're just selectively blind. Maybe it's because Vanessa gave them grandkids, or maybe it's because she's always louder than me. Always more dramatic, always makes everything feel urgent.

Whatever the reason they've been bending over backward to meet her needs since we were kids. If she needed money, they loaned it. If she messed up, they understood if I said anything, I was being difficult. Eventually I stopped pointing it out. It wasn't worth the eye rolls, the passive aggressive size, the conversations that ended with can't you just be happy for your sister?

I kept my head down. I went to trade school, got certified as an HVAC technician, and now I run my own small but successful business. I don't drive a fancy car, but I own it outright. I bought a modest house a few towns over. I've got a decent savings account and I've never once asked my parents for money.

You'd think that would earn me some kind of respect or at least some basic fairness, but in our family, stability just makes you invisible. It was early spring when my parents mentioned the idea of a family trip, just something small. They said a chance to get everyone together. I lit up at the idea. I hadn't taken more than a long weekend off in years.

We were thinking of the coast. My mom said, flipping through a brochure with sunkissed beaches on the cover, maybe a rental near the water. Wouldn't that be nice? I nodded already picturing the sound of waves and maybe a few days without client calls. Then she added, but we'll have to see. Money's been tight lately.

We'll keep you posted. A few weeks later, the trip had mysteriously morphed into a maybe next year situation. My dad called me one evening while I was finishing up paperwork in my garage. Just can't swing it this year, kiddo. He said with a heavy sigh. You know how it's groceries, gas life. I told him I understood and I did.

I wasn't going to guilt my aging parents into spending money they didn't have. Maybe I'll plan something small for myself. I added half joking, half hoping they'd suggest we split something, but there was just a pause on the line then. That's a good idea. You deserve it. I didn't book anything. Work got busy and I figured I'd use the time to catch up on some house projects, but then one morning in late May, I opened Instagram and felt my stomach drop.

It was Vanessa. Posting a boomerang of champagne glasses clinking together in first class, the caption or VO America. See you soon. Paris. Hashtag family trip. I stared at the screen, reread the caption and scrolled. There they were. My niece and nephew grinning in oversized sunglasses, lounging in luxury seats, trays of macarons and fresh fruit in front of them, like some kind of french fairy tale.
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