The night before my medical school interview, my sister poured bleach on my only blazer, and my parents told me to stop making a scene.

wedding.”

I stopped.

“He said he needed time to think,” she continued. “Apparently, he doesn’t like how I ‘handle conflict.’”

I turned around slowly.

Vanessa’s eyes were red, but her voice was still sharp. “You must be thrilled.”

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not thrilled,” I said. “I’m tired.”

She laughed bitterly. “Of course. Saint Julia.”

“No,” I said. “Not saint.continue reading …