Off The Record
My Older Sister Brought A Massive Gift For My Twins—Then My Younger Sister Ran In Yelling, ‘Don’t Let Them Open It!’
Everyone thought Hannah’s older sister was being nice when she showed up at the twins’ birthday celebration with a glittering pink-and-gold gift that was nearly as tall as the girls. However, a few minutes later, her younger sister, afraid and out of breath, rushed through the door. What did that box contain?
Sisters hold the oldest version of our tale, I’ve always thought. They are aware of all the awkward and sensitive moments as well as the chapters we attempt to alter but are never able to.
My younger sister, Mindy, and my older sister, Eliza, are very different from one another. And in some way, I’ve balanced between them for the majority of my 33 years, much like a referee who is a little worn out.
I’ll begin by saying this: I adore my sisters. I do. However, it would appear like we were raised in three distinct homes if you were to line us up.
At 36, Eliza is the oldest and her presence permeates every space. She is the one who irons her children’s socks and color-codes her pantry. Her Instagram photographs of “candid family moments” mysteriously always feature flawless lighting. Eliza has never been messy—or at least, she never shows the mess to others.
Although I adore my nephew and niece, Eliza treats their accomplishments like trophies, polishing them twice a day. She has two children.
In contrast, Mindy exudes warmth and intuition. The youngest at 29, she’s the one who always knows when you need a muffin or a hug. She forgives easily and listens more than she speaks. In an emergency, you want her at your side.
Afterward, there is me. Exactly at the center. The peacekeeper.
Here’s the reality, though. Only now have I been able to admit that Eliza and I have never had an easy relationship.
She had to be the best, the smartest, the one with the immaculate handwriting and the flawless grades as a child. Early on, I realized it wasn’t worth the effort to equal her.
It remained bearable until I became pregnant with twins.
The change came very instantly. She pretended to be encouraging, grinning and squealing appropriately, but the remarks began a few days later.
She jokingly remarked, “Wow, double the chaos,” although her tone didn’t sound like she was kidding.
She also once remarked, “You know, twins are cute, but they’re a bit of a novelty. This isn’t true parenting. It’s more akin to crowd management.”
The words hurt, yet I recall laughing politely.
The falsely sweet support vanished after the birth of Lily and Harper. All of my children suddenly annoyed her.
She would let out a loud sigh if they sobbed during meals, as though their small lungs were particularly bothering her. She would look at them as if I had committed a crime against fashion if they were toddling around in mismatched clothes.
The worst part, though, was when I heard her talking to my mother in the kitchen at my parent’s house, “Some people just shouldn’t have more than one child at a time.”
I recall my heart twisting unexpectedly as I stood in the corridor. At first, I wasn’t upset. All I felt was hurt.
I finally acknowledged what I had been putting off for months at that point.
I didn’t make Eliza envious. She felt envious of my kids.
The more I considered it, the more I understood that Eliza’s envy was not unexpected. Her value has always been based on how “put together” she appears to be on the outside. She needs her marriage, her home, and her children to be admired.
My twins were the center of attention when they were born. They were immediately loved by my parents, our family, and even our neighbors. And that change must have seemed like the spotlight abruptly shifting offstage to someone like Eliza, who thrives on attention.
She never seemed to get used to that. She probably never wanted to.
And then I retreated. I avoided arguing with her or confronting her. I simply gave her room. Years passed, and I avoided her as much as I could.
I therefore objected when my mother pleaded for Eliza to attend the twins’ fourth birthday celebration. However, when your mother is pleading with you to do something, you can’t resist, can you?
I therefore gave in and invited her.
Eliza showed up promptly on the day of the celebration, carrying a huge pink-and-gold box that resembled a Christmas display from a department store. My girls were shorter than it. It looked as if she had a professional do the wrapping.
She smiled tightly and held it out.
She said, “Happy birthday to the girls,” in a way that was both sweet and sour.
I said, “Thank you,” since I’ve spent years feigning that I’m not bothered by her tone.
The celebration was a success. We assembled in the living room to unwrap presents after the cake was sliced. I got up and prepared to assist the girls in sorting through the stack of gifts, which included that enormous glittering box that seemed to be shining from every angle.
A bang was heard at the front door after that.
The knock wasn’t gentle. The banging was loud, furious, and frantic. Before your ears can catch up, it strikes your chest.
My heart leaped. I rushed to the door, cleaned my palm of the frosting, and opened it.
Mindy was also present.
As if she had driven on the freeway with her windows down, her hair was wild and sticking up in all directions. She was breathing heavily, and her cheeks were red.
“Mindy?” “I said.” “Where did you go? How did you fare? Are you—”
She interrupted me, saying, “Please tell me you haven’t opened Eliza’s gift yet,”
“What? No, not just yet.”
She responded, “Good,” in a trembling voice. “Please. Don’t.”
As if expecting something to burst from behind the wrapping paper, she pushed by me and entered the house, looking about the room. She turned back to me as soon as she saw the box and frantically muttered, “Do NOT let your girls open that box.”
I felt sick to my stomach.
“But what happened?” I muttered.
She gave a headshake. Something caught my attention. Claire claimed that Eliza had a terrible strategy. I—I needed to come here. Avoid opening it.
I gazed at her. We were both friends with Claire. Someone we had known since we were little.
“Remember, why didn’t you pick up the phone? Where have you been, too? An hour ago, you were expected to be here.”
She tried to regulate her breathing and pushed her untidy hair out of her eyes.
And that’s when things really started to fall apart.
Suffice it to say, “My phone died on the way,” Mindy added. “Dead and buried.” “Then—” she exhaled shakily, “—my tire blew.” on the freeway.
My eyes got big. “What? You need to have contacted roadside assistance, Mindy.”
“I tried!” Still shaking, she raised her hands. But I had nothing when my phone died. I had to find one of those emergency call boxes by walking along the shoulder. Do you recognize the vivid yellow ones? I didn’t even believe those were still functional.
My husband David murmured softly, “They do,” from behind me. “But you could’ve been hurt.”
Mindy beckoned him away. “I wasn’t considering myself. I simply knew I needed to come here.”
I felt a chill run down my back. Whatever my cool-headed younger sister overheard had to be serious if she had sprinted into my house like she had dodged a storm after using a roadside emergency phone and walking down a highway shoulder.
“All right,” I muttered, “start at the beginning.”
The party noise had subsided, but she still drew me away and lowered her voice. “On my way here, I made a stop at Claire’s house. Earlier in the week, she had asked me to come get some old art stuff for Harper and Lily.” She was on the phone when I entered. Mindy took a deep breath. “At first, she didn’t notice me. Eliza ordered her to buy something for the girls that would finally show who deserved to be the favorite,” according to her reports.
My eyes were wide as I gazed at her.
Mindy went on, “She sounded… excited about it,” “As though she was pleased.” Claire seemed uneasy, but she didn’t specify what it was. “You can’t do that, Elizabeth,” she said. They are four years old. Eliza then responded something along the lines of “Oh, please.” For once, let Hannah handle the consequences.
“What does that even mean?” Even though I knew in my heart, I whispered.
Control has always appealed to Eliza. She was always looking for attention. She also felt intimidated whenever attention was diverted.
“Where is the gift?” With a harsh question, Mindy asked.
I gestured at the enormous pink-and-gold box.
Her face contorted in fear. “Hannah… I have no idea what’s within, but it’s not good.”
The box suddenly lost its attractive appearance. It had a menacing appearance.
I straightened my shoulders, inhaled deeply, and returned to the living room. Eliza was crouching next to the girls when I arrived.
“Oh!” “Perfect timing,” she remarked cheerfully. “How about opening this special one next, girls? The greatest was reserved for last.”
She and the twins were separated by me. “Remain calm. This one needs to be checked by Mom first.”
There was silence in the room. Tension was felt even by the children.
Lily gave me a blink. “Why, Mommy?”
I whispered softly, “Just to make sure everything is okay,” “You trust Mommy, right?”
With their tiny hands held together, both girls nodded immediately.
The box was remarkably light, so I picked it up and brought it into the kitchen. David went after it. Mindy trailed behind. My parents came after me.
Finally, with a theatrical stomp, Eliza also came in.
She insisted, “What is this circus?” “It’s a present! For your kids!”
I ignored her tone and placed the box on the table. As I pulled back the tape, my hands shook a little. I barely opened it to peek inside.
Then I did.
A Labubu plush caught my eye. It was the very one my girls had pleaded for.
Only one, though.
My stomach turned over. I noticed the card taped inside the lid when I lifted it out.
It said, “For the most well-behaved and prettiest girl.”
Indeed, such was Eliza’s desire. She wanted a conflict between my daughters.
Something hardened inside of me when I realized what she was up to. My hands shook with rage as I turned to face Eliza. Her face was almost smug as she returned my gaze.
I spoke slowly and deliberately, “You bought one gift so my daughters would quarrel over which one ‘deserves’ it?”
Eliza briefly blinked at me, pretending to be innocent with the dexterity of someone who has practiced all her life.
She sneered, “I don’t understand why you’re being so dramatic.” “One of them behaves better than the other. Everyone is aware of it. It’s also an extremely costly toy. I’m not going to buy tw—”
“Enough,” my father yelled.
We all turned to face him when his voice suddenly became forceful.
Among his many qualities are patience, quietness, and thoughtfulness. Loud isn’t one of them, though. It was a complete surprise to hear him raise his voice.
My mom put a hand to her own chest. “Eliza… how could you do something so cruel?”
Eliza’s expression contorted. Cruel? Are you saying that I’m cruel? I arrive with a lovely present—”
“For only one child!” Mindy fired back. “You wanted to pit four-year-old sisters against each other like some sick game!”
Eliza gave an eye roll. “All of you are incredible. I attempt to be unique, and all of a sudden I’m the bad guy? It’s impossible for me to present a gift without getting insulted.
“That’s not a gift,” I spoke in a low voice. “It’s a weapon.”
She clenched her jaw. She didn’t dispute it, though.
Rather, she snatched up her purse, gave a loud puff, and strode to the door.
She yelled at her children, who appeared more ashamed than anything else. “Come on,” she said. Reluctantly, they followed her, and then—
SLAM.
The frame of the door trembled.
The room was oddly silent after the reverberation subsided.
I put the stuffed animal down and looked at Mindy. I gave her a mindless hug. As if she had been holding her breath since hearing Claire, she leaned dangerously close to me.
“Thank you,” I said in a whisper. Indeed. I mean it.
“Always,” she muttered. “You and the girls come first.”
David took a step toward me and put his hand in mine.
“We can fix this,” he whispered to himself.
Since I already knew what needed to be done, I nodded.
When I said, “We need another plush,” “Same size and brand.” “Tonight.”
Mindy’s gaze grew brighter. “I’ll help look.”
With cupcakes and pencils in hand, we sent the girls back to the living room, explaining that the enormous box was a part of a “big surprise tomorrow.” Too preoccupied with frosting and glitter glue to question it, they accepted it.
I rewrapped the box that evening after everyone had gone and the house had become silent. I then concealed Eliza’s original toy beneath the stairs in the basement.
David kissed my forehead at daybreak and responded, “I’ll handle it.”
He made the long drive to the only toy store in town that still had the exact Labubu. Hours later, he came back with the second plush in his arms like a trophy.
“Got it,” he declared with pride.
We called the girls into the living room that night. When they saw the enormous package once more, their eyes grew huge.
I said, “You ready?”
Their pigtails bounced from the force of their nods.
They tore open the wrapper together. They let out a shriek of genuine excitement that tightened my throat when they opened the lid and discovered two identical plush toys inside.
“WE BOTH GOT ONE!” Harper shouted.
“Look, Mommy!” “Look, Mommy!” Lily jumped up and down and added.
I saw their joy blossom as David and I simply grinned at one another.
But then the unexpected turn of events occurred.
“Can we call Aunt Eliza?” Lily inquired. “We want to say thank you!”
Harper gave a forceful nod. “We love her sooooo much!”
They took my phone, hit call, and put it on speaker before I could think of an excuse.
Eliza answered after a couple rings. “Hello?”
“We LOVE them!” Lily yelled.
“You’re the best auntie ever!” Harper went on.
“Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!”
I observed David’s face losing its color.
On the other end, however, there was stillness. She seemed upset to learn that her idea had not worked out.
At last, she pushed out, “Well. I’m happy you enjoy them. I must leave.”
She hung up after saying that.
After the girls had gone to sleep that night, cuddling their new stuffed animals, I stood in the hallway and quietly vowed to myself, “The next time someone insists that I invite Eliza to something, I’m thinking it through.” Twice. Three times. Perhaps more.
since family disputes are possible. Families may not agree.
But attempting to split up helpless four-year-olds? I will never allow anyone to breach that line again.
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