“What evidence?”
“I saw her crop me out.”
“I spoke to her about it, Nora.”
My daughter gave a tired laugh.
“That won’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“She always does it.”
“It matters to me.”
I stepped closer.
“What do you mean by always?”
“She moves me to the back. She picks pictures where I’m covered. She cuts me out.”
My stomach dropped.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Long enough that I stopped asking her to send the photos to me.”
“What do you mean by always?”
I wanted to tell her I hadn’t known.
But the words felt like an excuse.
“I thought you noticed, Mom. I mean, how could you not?”
She walked upstairs before I could answer.
Alone in the kitchen, I remembered Vanessa moving Nora behind others and rejecting photos whenever she stood near the front.
“I thought you noticed, Mom.”
I had noticed pieces, but I had never forced myself to see the pattern.
***
The next morning, I found Vanessa drinking coffee on the patio.
“We need to talk.”
“Why have you been cutting Nora out of pictures?”
Her cup stopped halfway to her mouth.
“I haven’t.”
“I watched you yesterday.”
“We need to talk.”
“That photo was poorly framed.”
“She was standing beside Lily.”
“And now Lily is centered and post-worthy.”
“You removed my daughter.”
Vanessa sighed.
“She hated photos when she was younger.”
“She was standing beside Lily.”
“That didn’t give you permission to erase her.”
Vanessa set down her cup.
“You’re making it sound ugly.”
“It is ugly.”
“I choose pictures where everyone looks their best.”
“Everyone?”
I leaned toward her.
“You’re making it sound ugly.”
“You will not crop Nora out of another photo. You will not tell her where to stand, what to wear, or how much of herself is acceptable. Do you understand?”
Vanessa stood.
“There it is, Audrey.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Another speech about Nora.”
The resentment in her voice stopped me.
“What does that mean?”
“There it is, Audrey.”
“It means this family has spent 16 years acting like everything revolves around your daughter’s feelings.”
“She’s been mocked for the way she was born.”
“And you can’t expect the whole world to adjust.”
I stepped between Vanessa and the door.
“This isn’t the whole world. This is her family.”
She pushed past me and went inside.
