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When I was 14, I broke my arm at gymnastics practice. My mom was at a wine tasting downtown and wouldn't answer her phone. The coach drove me to the ER himself. Three hours later, she finally showed up, martini glass still in hand.

When I was 12, I broke my arm at gymnastics practice. My mom was at a wine tasting event when the coach called. She told them to just take me to the hospital and she'd check on me tomorrow. I sat in the ER alone for four hours.

When I was 14, I collapsed during track practice. My dad was supposed to pick me up, but he was at a business dinner. The coach called an ambulance while I lay there alone. My parents showed up three hours later, after dessert.

Mrs. Smith had finished feeding the chickens in the evening light, her shadow stretching long across the muddy farmyard. She paused by the stable door, watching the horses settle for the night, their warm breath visible in the cooling air.

When I was 14, my appendix burst during a school field trip. The teachers called my mom's cell five times, but she was getting her nails done. By the time I got to the hospital, the infection had spread. Her response? "These things happen."

When I was 12, my appendix burst during my piano recital. Mom was at a wine tasting and told the school to call my aunt instead. I ended up taking a taxi to the emergency room. The nurse couldn't believe a parent wasn't with me.

Mother's birthday celebration felt like another opportunity for comparison. While Jessica showcased her promotion at the law firm, I sat quietly, watching Father beam with pride. The crystal glasses clinked, each sound emphasizing my perceived failures.

When I was 14, I broke my arm at soccer practice. My mom was at a wine tasting event when the coach called. She told him to just drop me at the emergency room and said she'd check on me tomorrow. I sat there alone for six hours.