I Gave My Family Back to Her
297 Views · Ongoing · Piper Hayes
When I was diagnosed with leukemia, the first thing I felt was relief.
I wasn't really their kid anyway. If I died, I wouldn't owe anybody anything.
When I was six, my little sister Sloane and I fought over a limited-edition doll. Mom dragged me into a corner and said it slowly, making sure I didn't miss a word.
"You're not our real daughter. Everything you have in this house is a handout from us."
After that, I never asked for anything again.
Sloane got new shoes, and I got her hand-me-downs. While Sloane went to piano lessons, I stood at the kitchen sink washing dishes to earn my breakfast money for the next day.
In that house, I was more like a piece of luggage someone had dropped off, just waiting to be picked up.
The doctor said a bone marrow transplant worked best with a match from immediate family. I didn't say a word about it at home.
Without telling anyone, I started looking for my birth parents. I also took the money I'd been saving for seven years and put a down payment on a cemetery plot.
Then last night, burning up with a fever, I dragged myself downstairs for a glass of water. As I passed the master bedroom, I heard my parents talking.
"Were we too hard on her back then? Our oldest acts like she's not even part of this family anymore."
"If we hadn't told her that, would she let Sloane have her way every time? Sloane's the one we adopted."
The glass slipped out of my hand, rolled twice across the floor, and stopped at my feet.
So I was their real daughter. The girl they'd spoiled like their own flesh and blood for nineteen years was the one they'd adopted.
Standing outside their door, I laughed out loud.
But by then, my cancer had already gone too far.
I wasn't really their kid anyway. If I died, I wouldn't owe anybody anything.
When I was six, my little sister Sloane and I fought over a limited-edition doll. Mom dragged me into a corner and said it slowly, making sure I didn't miss a word.
"You're not our real daughter. Everything you have in this house is a handout from us."
After that, I never asked for anything again.
Sloane got new shoes, and I got her hand-me-downs. While Sloane went to piano lessons, I stood at the kitchen sink washing dishes to earn my breakfast money for the next day.
In that house, I was more like a piece of luggage someone had dropped off, just waiting to be picked up.
The doctor said a bone marrow transplant worked best with a match from immediate family. I didn't say a word about it at home.
Without telling anyone, I started looking for my birth parents. I also took the money I'd been saving for seven years and put a down payment on a cemetery plot.
Then last night, burning up with a fever, I dragged myself downstairs for a glass of water. As I passed the master bedroom, I heard my parents talking.
"Were we too hard on her back then? Our oldest acts like she's not even part of this family anymore."
"If we hadn't told her that, would she let Sloane have her way every time? Sloane's the one we adopted."
The glass slipped out of my hand, rolled twice across the floor, and stopped at my feet.
So I was their real daughter. The girl they'd spoiled like their own flesh and blood for nineteen years was the one they'd adopted.
Standing outside their door, I laughed out loud.
But by then, my cancer had already gone too far.


















































