1: 1

My parents moved into a new place, and the front-gate security registered the faces of both dogs, but somehow left out mine, their own son.

I went downstairs to walk the dog and found I couldn't get back in.

I called my mother. Her voice was flat with impatience.

"Aren't the dogs with you? Both of them are in the system. Just pick one up and scan it open."

I hauled the fifty-pound golden retriever up into my arms, and sure enough, the gate opened.

I ranked below the dogs.

Once I was inside, the hurt got the better of me.

"Couldn't you register me too?"

My mother's face darkened. "There's only room for five faces. If you take one, what happens when Kerry Sullivan comes home?"

I'd almost forgotten. I had a wonderful little brother, all the way overseas.

"He hasn't been back in years…"

I settled for less. "Then just remove one of the dogs."

My father flared up at once. "Kerry bought those dogs. If he comes home and they can't get through the door, he'll be heartbroken."

"You ungrateful thing. We're already miserable not seeing Kerry, and here you are twisting the knife. Those dogs know how to make people happy. You don't."

He snatched the leash out of my hand and slammed the door, furious.

I stared at the little screen on the gate panel. It kept mechanically repeating three words: unrecognized stranger.

Fine, I thought. A home I can't get into isn't a home I need to enter.

1

The motion-sensor light in the stairwell had gone out long ago, and there was nothing left but the dark wrapped tight around me.

The family group chat, silent for so long, suddenly came alive.

My brother Kerry, still overseas, sent a message.

"Mom, I'm at the airport already. I'll be home tomorrow."

My mother answered instantly with a video of the new bedroom.

A wide, bright master bedroom, everything in it brand-new, high-end custom furniture throughout.

The oversized closet was packed with this season's newest clothes.

"Kerry's room is all ready, only the best of everything, just waiting for our precious boy to come home."

My father followed right behind.

A little space just for the family's two golden retrievers, right next to Kerry's bedroom.

Cushions, toys, and treats arranged in neat rows, cozy and picture-perfect.

"The dogs' room is right beside yours."

Watching all that warmth on the screen, something in my chest felt like a wet towel had been stuffed against it.

Back in the old place, I'd slept on a mat on the living room floor, night after night.

When we moved into the spacious new home, I thought I'd finally have a room of my own.

Instead they'd given each of the two dogs their own room, and put me on a mat in the storage closet.

No one remembered that I was a son of this family too.

The next second, Zoe Gilbert's familiar profile picture popped up.

"Welcome home, Kerry. I'll come to the airport with everyone to pick you up tomorrow."

I opened my chat with her.

Half an hour earlier, crouched in the doorway, I'd been so miserable.

"The new gate registered the dogs' faces but not mine. I'm locked out and can't get back in."

No reply.

I scrolled up. The whole thread was one solid column of green: me, talking to myself.

The last time she'd answered me was half a month ago.

The group chat was still buzzing away, and no one thought of me, forgotten out in the stairwell.

I knocked three times. Not one person answered.

"Tomorrow the whole family is going to the airport to welcome our precious Kerry home."

The light leaking out through the window went dark.

I curled up alone in front of the door, the stairwell black and dead silent.

The hurt rose in slow waves from somewhere deep down.

I opened Zoe's chat and typed, my fingers shaking.

"Zoe, could I stay at your place for the night?"

The same woman who'd answered my brother in the group chat within seconds ignored me again.

A dense, prickling ache spread across my chest.

I buried my face in my knees and pushed down the sting behind my eyes.

I counted the time, minute by minute, and finally made it to dawn.

Through the heavy door I could hear my mother clearly, humming a cheerful tune.

My father murmuring to the dogs.

"Your big brother comes home today. Aren't you happy?"

They finished getting ready, pulled the door open, and finally saw the state of me.

There was no guilt, no remorse like I'd imagined. Instead the blame came down on me all at once.

"Your brother's about to land, and you're crouched in the doorway in the same clothes? What kind of look is that?"

My father's face was livid.

"Did you do this on purpose? Trying to make sure your brother isn't welcomed home?"

"You cold-hearted thing. Selfish since you were little, always wanting everything for yourself, can't even stand your own brother!"

I'd crouched so long my hands and feet were numb and swollen.

I braced against the floor and tried for a long time before I could slowly get to my feet.

"You locked me out last night. There's no face for me on the gate. I couldn't get in."

My mother's eyes went still for a moment, a flicker of guilt crossing them.

She turned her face away and waved a hand, impatient.

"Don't make excuses. Get in there and pack your things. Don't hold us up going to get your brother!"

No one cared how I'd spent the night.

I opened the email on my phone.

One message that I'd left sitting for a long time lay quietly in the inbox.

The three-year posting invitation from the Antarctic research expedition.

Harsh conditions, thousands of miles from home, three full years once you went.

Before, I'd clung to that thin scrap of family feeling, and I'd hesitated again and again.

Now I answered in earnest.

"I confirm my participation. I'll report on time."

From here on, I'd stop waiting for your love to arrive too.

2: 2

2

By the time I'd packed and come downstairs, Zoe was already waiting in the car.

Dad sat up front in the passenger seat.

Mom was in the back with the two golden retrievers.

The car was huge, and it was packed full.

I stood beside it and spoke quietly.

"There's no room in the car. Could we leave the dogs at home?"

The words were barely out before Mom's face went cold.

"Have you got any sense at all? Kerry's been away so long, and these two dogs are what he's missed the most. How could you leave them behind?"

Dad's brows drew together.

"A grown man who can't take the slightest inconvenience. What's wrong with taking the bus and the subway yourself? You just have to spoil it for everyone."

I hadn't slept all night, and my head felt heavy, my whole body off-balance.

"Do I have to go?"

No one was waiting for me. Why should I tag along and be the extra, pointless decoration?

"How can a child be so heartless? Your own brother's flying back and you don't even want to pick him up at the airport. Cold-blooded, ungrateful—we raised you all these years for nothing!"

Zoe sat in the driver's seat, silent the whole time.

She watched the whole family lay into me, watched me stand there worn out and humiliated, and never said a word, her eyes flat and indifferent.

"Enough. Take the bus and the subway."

The car started and pulled away without me.

Under the blazing sun, I rode a shared bike first, then squeezed onto a packed bus, and finally transferred to the subway.

The whole way was rough, and my head spun.

I got to the airport out of breath and called them.

Mom's voice carried an edge of impatience.

"We've already got Kerry. We're on the highway heading back now."

Before I could say anything, the line went dead.

I stood at the crowded, noisy airport entrance and looked up into the harsh glare of the sun.

And suddenly I laughed.

Laughed until my eyes went red and my throat closed up, with nothing but emptiness inside.

They could save the best room for my brother, throw him the grandest welcome.

But they couldn't spare even a few minutes to wait for me.

By the time I finally made it home, I was completely spent.

Tired, thirsty, hungry.

Standing in front of the house, I still couldn't get past that entry gate.

I knocked for a long time.

A neighbor leaned out, confused.

"Your family went out for lunch. How come you're not with them?"

I pushed down the sting in my eyes and called Mom.

"Private room, third floor, the Grand Meridian Hotel."

I pushed the door open. Zoe was sitting beside Kerry, peeling shrimp for him.

She was severely allergic to seafood.

In the two years we'd been together, she never touched it.

The whole table was covered in red, fiery Cajun dishes.

They all remembered that Kerry couldn't do without heat in his food.

But no one remembered that I had bad stomach ulcers and couldn't take anything spicy.

They glanced up at me and went right back to their fun.

Mom took out an elegantly wrapped gift box.

"Kerry, the newest phone. I got it just for you."

Dad pulled out a brand-new deed and pushed it across to Kerry.

"The new place is in your name."

Kerry took the deed with a wide grin and shot me a smug look.

"So doesn't that mean that from now on, if my brother lives at home, he'll have to pay me rent?"

Zoe wiped the shrimp off her hands and produced a gift box.

"A limited-edition watch. Let me put it on you."

Expensive, luxurious, dazzling.

I sat in the seat by the door, looking down at the old T-shirt on me, washed pale with wear.

I couldn't even remember how many years it had been since I'd received a gift.

Back before Kerry went abroad, every holiday, Mom and Dad would brush me off with a smile.

"You're brothers. One gift between you is plenty. No need to waste money."

But those so-called shared gifts were always in Kerry's favorite style, always his size.

Later, once Kerry went abroad, they switched to a new line.

"Kerry's out there overseas working himself to the bone, and you're comfortable at home living easy. What right do you have to fight him over gifts?"

Year after year, it was always the same.

I'd long since gotten used to having nothing, used to not being the favored one.

An unknown number rang through.

It was the project lead for the Antarctic research expedition.

"Mr. Sullivan, I'm confirming with you again. The three-year posting in Antarctica—are you certain you can accept the position and report for duty?"

"The conditions are harsh, the term is long. Once you confirm, there's no going back."

I didn't hesitate for a second.

"I'm certain."

3: 3

3

I hung up and went back into the private room, and Kerry turned to me out of nowhere.

"Alfie, what did you get me?"

Every set of eyes in the room settled on me.

I stood there, my throat dry and tight.

Locked out all night, then running around all day.

I hadn't had so much as a sip of water. Where was I supposed to find the energy to buy a gift?

When I said nothing, Kerry's eyes filmed over with tears.

"Alfie, is it that you don't want me home?"

Then my parents piled on, one after another.

"Alfred, how can you be so thoughtless? Your brother finally comes back to the country and you can't spare a single kind gesture?"

"So selfish. How can you be this petty?"

"We raised you for nothing. No sense of family at all, cold-blooded and heartless."

Zoe lifted her eyes to me, her look distant and detached.

"Alfie, what you did really was wrong."

I kept my head down and bit hard into my lip.

They welcomed their younger son home with open arms and full hearts.

They remembered a table of fine dishes for him, expensive gifts, a house bought outright, and they even remembered a special feast for the dogs.

Every single thing. Except that today was also my birthday.

After dinner, Zoe made a rare move and came to talk to me.

"Alfie, I need to tell you something."

Something in me stirred.

I thought she was going to explain why she never replied last night.

I thought she still remembered that today was my birthday.

But she hesitated a long moment, then raised her eyes to mine.

"Kerry just got back, and he's not used to the pace here yet. I'm worried he won't find a decent job."

"I want to bring him into our company through a referral."

I stood there, stunned.

Zoe's company was the top firm in the area.

The bar to get in was brutally high. Ordinary people fought for a spot and never made it.

Even I, a graduate from a top school, had to wear her down for ages just to get a referral for an internship.

An overseas-project translation post, the hours flipped by time zones, day and night blurred together.

I'd stay up until two or three in the morning proofreading drafts, night after night.

I didn't dare take a day off, didn't dare make a mistake, didn't dare let up.

I gutted it out for a full six months.

Now the internship was nearly over, and my coworkers all said that with how hard I worked, being made permanent was a sure thing.

But the company also had an unwritten rule. Each employee could refer only one person.

"Zoe, what are you getting at?"

She dropped her gaze, but her tone left no room for argument.

"Alfie, resign. Give the position to Kerry."

I'd already decided to join the Antarctic research expedition.

But quitting on my own and being forced to step aside were two very different things.

"Zoe, you know how hard I fought to get made permanent, everything I poured into it."

"And now, on your say-so, I'm supposed to just hand it all over?"

"And if I say no?"

She flushed, half-angry, half-embarrassed.

"Alfred, Kerry is your brother. Not some stranger."

"If you don't resign, I'll have the company fire you outright. Kerry studied abroad, after all. His English is better, he's more suited to the position now."

"Think it over carefully. Don't make everyone look bad."

With that she left me standing there and hurried to catch up with Kerry ahead of us.

The two of them walked shoulder to shoulder, talking and laughing.

My phone buzzed. A message from the head of the Antarctic research expedition.

"Mr. Sullivan, we depart in three days. We've put together a welcome package for you here, a full set of living supplies, cold-weather gear, and a food kit, everything included. You don't need to bring a thing, just yourself."

Two short lines, and I read them over more than ten times.

It was the only kindness, the only warmth, I received on my birthday today.

I lifted a hand and quietly wiped the tears from the corner of my eye.

It's fine. I'll be gone soon enough.