The “Child” Bride
I stared at the screen, blinking. The audacity was almost impressive.
It wasn’t just that my half-sister, Chloe, didn’t want me at her wedding. We weren’t particularly close—she was ten years older than me and had always treated me like an annoying accessory our dad picked up when he remarried. I could handle not being invited. I could even handle the “child-free” excuse, even though half my cousins were younger than me and they were going.
But the demand for a gift? That was new territory.
I put the phone down and walked into the kitchen where my dad was making coffee.
“Did you know Chloe isn’t inviting me?” I asked.
Dad flinched. He knew. “Look, honey, she’s stressed. It’s her big day. She just wants everything perfect.”
“She said it’s child-free. I’m nineteen. I’m a sophomore in college, Dad. I pay my own taxes.”
“She means under twenty-one,” Dad murmured, staring hard at his mug. “It’s… a venue rule. Or something.”
“It’s a dry wedding,” I reminded him. “She’s serving sparkling grape juice. What is the venue worried I’m going to do? Get drunk on Welch’s and start a brawl?”
Dad didn’t have an answer. He just gave me the look he always did—the please don’t make waves look. “Just send her something small from the registry. To keep the peace. Please?”
I went back to my room and opened the registry link she had sent. It was obscene. $400 stand mixers, $800 bedding sets, a honeymoon fund asking for “contributions starting at $100.” There wasn’t a single item under $50. She wanted me to drop a week’s worth of part-time wages on a party I wasn’t allowed to attend because she had arbitrarily decided I was a toddler.
You’re being immature and selfish, she had texted.
I looked at the phone. I looked at the registry. And then, a calmness washed over me.
If she wanted to treat me like a child, I would act like the perfect child.
I didn’t reply to her text. Instead, I went to the store. I didn’t go to Williams-Sonoma or Crate & Barrel. I went to the toy aisle of a dollar store.
The wedding was two weeks later. My dad and stepmom went, looking stressed. I stayed home, ordered a large pizza, and binge-watched three seasons of a show I’d been meaning to see. It was a great night.
The next day, the “gift” I had mailed arrived at Chloe’s house.
I got the phone call around noon.
“What is this?” Chloe shrieked. She didn’t even say hello.
“Did you get the present?” I asked cheerfully. “I didn’t want to be selfish.”
“It’s… it’s a coloring book!”
“It’s ‘Disney Princesses’, specifically,” I corrected. “And I included a pack of crayons. The 64-pack. With the sharpener in the back.”
“Is this a joke? I send you a registry for high-end cookware and you send me a coloring book?”
“Well, Chloe,” I said, keeping my voice sickly sweet. “You were very clear. You said I couldn’t come because I was a child. You said I was under 21, so I didn’t belong in an adult setting. I figured since I’m such a child, I couldn’t possibly have a job or a bank account to buy adult gifts. So I used my allowance. I thought you’d like the sparkles.”
There was a long silence on the other end. I could practically hear her teeth grinding.
“You are uninvited from Christmas,” she hissed.
“That’s fine,” I said. “I’ll probably still be under 21 by then, anyway. Wouldn’t want to ruin the adult atmosphere.”
I hung up. Best five dollars I ever spent.
