PARTIALITY

Prologue

My mother was a woman who played favorites.

At 16, my father broke his back.

The family lost its income.

I quit my after-school tutoring and got a job as a waitress.

My little brother still got his football club fees paid, right on schedule.

My mother said: “You’re the older sister.

You have to give way to your brother.”

At 20, I sat a scholarship exam and won it.

My mother made me turn it down — stay home, go to the local university, “so it’s easier to help me raise your brother.”

I turned down the scholarship.

My mother said: “You’re the older sister.

You have to give way to your brother.”

At 23, I started working.

My salary barely covered rent, and my mother was already asking for seventy percent of it.

My brother failed his university entrance exam.

She didn’t say a single word to him — she just turned to me: “Send him money for a training course, will you.”

My mother said: “You’re the older sister.

You have to give way to your brother.”

At 26, I got promoted.

I told no one.

Because by then I’d learned something: every time my mother found out I had a little more, I ended up with a little less.

At 28, my brother wanted to get married.

My mother called — no small talk, straight to the order: “Buy him a house.

Buy him a car.

Think of it as your dowry gift to your brother.”

I stayed silent on the other end of the line for a long time.

Then I said: “No.”

It was the first time in twenty-eight years I had refused to give way to anything.