Jeremy Francisco Angela Facebook ad: “They Never Made a Place for Me, So I Made My Own”

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1372079378018162

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Facebook, Instagram, Audience Network and Threads

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After my parents moved into their new apartment, they insisted on keeping it a surprise. It wasn’t until Thanksgiving morning that Mom finally texted me the address, a condo in the Chicago suburbs. *Come over. First Thanksgiving in the new house. All five of us.* I arrived with a pumpkin pie. Mounted on the foyer wall were four brass hooks, each with an engraved nameplate. Mom and Dad. Travis and Megan. My coat felt heavy in my hands. Mom fished a plastic folding hook from the utility closet and clipped it over the closet door. “I forgot to add yours when we ordered them,” she said. “You’re not here that often anyway, so this will do.” I said nothing. Megan pulled me along for a tour. She had a walk-in closet. Travis had a game room. Dad even had a small study by the window. I stopped at the last door. Inside was a foldout bed. Mom smiled. “This is the guest room. You can stay here when you visit.” I stared at the bed for a long time before I nodded. It wasn’t that they forgot to ask what kind of room I wanted when they planned their new home. It was that they never planned on this home having a room for me. At dinner, Dad raised his glass. “To finally having a real home.” I smiled and clinked my glass against his. Under the table, I opened my work email and rescinded my acceptance of the Chicago branch position. Then I accepted the offer from headquarters in Austin. They had found their new home. It was time for me to find mine. … After dinner, Mom cut the pumpkin pie and told us to gather in the living room to open the housewarming gifts she’d bought. Travis got a new gaming console. Megan got a vintage handbag she’d been wanting for months. Dad got a whiskey set. By the time it was my turn, the coffee table was empty. Mom paused, then smacked her forehead. “Oh, look at me. I just figured you didn’t need anything, so I didn’t want to buy you something random.” Megan hugged her new bag, a flicker of awkwardness on her face. “Lucy, you can borrow mine for a few days if you want.” “Don’t be silly.” Mom waved a hand at her. “Lucy doesn’t even like this kind of thing. She’s never been any trouble.” I lowered my head and took a bite of pie. The sweetness was cloying, coating my tongue. When I was little, money had been tight. Travis wanted new sneakers; Megan wanted piano lessons. I learned early on to say I didn’t need anything. Later, when Mom and Dad started making more money, they were already used to it. If Travis wanted something, he just had to drop a link in the family group chat. If Megan lingered over something in a store, it might just appear in her room the next day. But whenever anyone asked about me, Mom always said the same thing. “Lucy isn’t picky. She’s easy.” I’d said “I don’t need it” for so many years that they’d stopped thinking I might want anything at all. At ten o’clock, I got ready to drive back to my apartment. Dad frowned. “Why are you leaving on Thanksgiving? There’s a bed f......

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They Never Made a Place for Me, So I Made My Own