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"Ah, yes," Roxanne agreed, raising her glass in mock-toast. "To growing up and becoming oh-so-wise."
Charlotte clinked her glass against Roxanne's, the sound ringing bittersweet in the stillness of the house.
“Or at least growing up,” Charlotte countered.
The warm glow of the living room lamp cast a golden halo around Roxanne's fiery red hair as she leaned forward, concern etched on her expressive face. Charlotte fidgeted with the frayed edge of the throw pillow in her lap, feeling the weight of her sister's gaze, searching for answers. Roxanne was waiting for Charlotte to start the conversation—Charlotte could tell from her expression.
"Rox," Charlotte began, her voice wavering slightly. "Am I... a pushover?"
Roxanne hesitated, and Charlotte could see the internal struggle playing out behind her eyes. She was torn between protecting her sister's feelings and being brutally honest.
"Char, I love you," Roxanne finally said, her tone gentle but firm. "But I have to be truthful with you. Yeah, you've been a pushover at times."
Charlotte's heart sank, even though she had expected the answer. A lump formed in her throat as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill over.
"Damn it," she muttered, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. Roxanne reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," Roxanne urged, her voice full of empathy. "We all have our moments of weakness. Is that why Daniel said he’s leaving? That’s a thin excuse, if you ask me."
“Thank you, Rox," Charlotte whispered, her grip tightening on her sister's hand. "For being here, and for not sugarcoating the truth. It's exactly what I needed." She took another long sip of wine. “Now, give me examples. Like, I need some concrete points here.”
Roxanne leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. "Remember when we were kids and you'd always let our cousins choose what games to play? You never wanted to make anyone upset, so you'd just go along with whatever they decided."
Charlotte winced at the memory, acknowledging the truth in Roxanne's words. She nodded slowly, prompting her sister to continue.
"Or what about that time you worked so hard on that art for kids program for the community center, only to have someone else take credit for it?" Roxanne continued, her voice tinged with anger on her sister's behalf. "You didn't stand up for yourself, Char. You let them walk all over you."
A pang of regret settled in Charlotte's chest, and she bit her lip, trying not to remember the hurt she had felt at the time. But the memories came flooding back, along with the realization that she had allowed herself to be sidelined in her own life far too often.
"And don't even get me started on Daniel," Roxanne added, taking a sip of her wine before setting the glass down with a thud. "He's always been so controlling – deciding where you guys went to college, where you’d live, discouraging you from getting a job, even what friends you could have based on how they made him look. It's like he's been stifling your spirit, Char. He wanted a trophy wife until he didn’t."
Charlotte's hand tightened around her wine glass, her knuckles turning white. She couldn't deny the truth in her sister's words. She had always prioritized others' happiness over her own, desperate for approval and terrified of confrontation. But hearing it from Roxanne made her feel exposed, vulnerable.
"Everyone seemed to see it but me," she murmured, a wave of self-doubt crashing over her. "What's wrong with me, Rox?"
"Nothing's wrong with you, Char," Roxanne said firmly, reaching across the table to rest a hand on her sister's arm. "You're just too kind-hearted for your own good sometimes. You think that by giving in and going along with what others want, you're keeping the peace and making everyone happy. But you're only hurting yourself in the end."
Roxanne's voice filled the dimly lit room, her words weaving through the air like threads of a tapestry that was slowly beginning to unravel. Charlotte studied the whirls and patterns in the wooden table between them, searching for clarity amongst the chaos of her thoughts. As Charlotte listened to her sister's words, she felt grateful for Roxanne's honesty and support, but ashamed that she hadn't recognized her own worth and stood up for herself sooner.
"Think about Amelia's graduation party," Roxanne continued, her tone gentle but insistent. "After you’d planned the whole thing and made sure things went off without a hitch, you spent the entire day running around, catering to everyone else's needs, making sure they were comfortable—that the music was okay, or that the gluten-free options were okay. Even though Amelia kept trying to get you to sit down, you barely even took a moment to enjoy your own daughter's accomplishment."
Charlotte winced as the memory surfaced, her heart clenching with regret. She hadn't realized it at the time, but she had been so focused on pleasing everyone that she'd failed to truly be present for one of the most important days of her child's life. And wasn't that the ultimate irony? Her desire to make others happy had only left her feeling empty and disconnected.
She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to meet her sister's gaze. "I never meant to be this way, Rox," she admitted, the words tasting like ash on her tongue. "I just... I don't know how to change. How do I stop letting people walk all over me without becoming someone I'm not? I don’t want to be some cold witch who has no regard for anyone else’s feelings."
An image of Lillian Ashwood flashed in Charlotte’s mind.
Roxanne’s eyes were warm and understanding. "You're an incredible artist, Char. You have this amazing gift for creating beauty out of nothing, for seeing the world in a way that no one else does. You need to channel that same energy into standing up for yourself."
The tension within Charlotte grew, a battle raging deep inside her soul. She longed to embrace some newfound sense of agency, to finally break free from the chains of her people-pleasing tendencies. But the thought of disappointing or upsetting those she cared about made her stomach twist into knots.
Except Daniel—as she took another sip of wine, she thought of all the ways she hoped he was upset in the near future. She hoped all of his shoelaces snapped right as he was running late for work. She hoped that he caught several colds. She hoped that if he ever tried to date again, he got incurable, severe dandruff.
But everyone else—like Roxanne, like Amelia?
"Is it really so bad to want to make others happy?" Charlotte asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Of course not," Roxanne reassured her, giving her arm a comforting squeeze. "But there's a difference between being kind and being a doormat, Char. You have to learn how to strike that balance, to find your own happiness without sacrificing yourself in the process."
