I’m the wicked stepmother. I know that sounds like something out of a kids’ book, but I was the real thing, and the worst part is I knew it the whole time I was doing it.

This was years ago now. I’m an old woman typing this on my phone at my kitchen table, and I’ve never told a living soul. So here goes.

Her name was Lily. She was four when her mama passed. Cancer, the fast kind that doesn’t give a family any time to get ready. By the time I came along she was seven, this quiet little thing with dark hair, and her daddy Ray told me one night, “She likes you, you know.” I believed him back then. I think she really did.

I had my own boy, Cody, a year younger than her. And here’s where I’ve got to be honest, because that’s the whole reason I’m sitting here typing instead of sleeping. I loved my Cody in a way I never once let myself love that little girl. I told myself it was just natural. Blood is blood. But that was a lie I dressed up real nice so I could keep living with myself.

The shoes were the first thing. Cody needed sneakers for school so we went and got him a fine pair, the kind that light up, the whole deal. Lily’s shoes had a hole starting at the toe. For hers, we went to the thrift store. I remember holding up a scuffed little pair and saying, “These are practically brand new, look at that.” She just nodded. “I like these, Karen.” She always called me Karen. Never Mom. I told myself I didn’t mind that either.

Then it was summer camp. Cody had his heart set on a baseball camp that cost a good bit of money. And wouldn’t you know it, Lily had a flyer too, some art thing down at the library, cheaper even than the baseball. I stood right there at the kitchen counter and said, “We can’t afford both, hon.” We could have. The truth is I just couldn’t afford both for her and for him, not in my head. So Cody threw a ball for two weeks and Lily stayed home and never said one word about it. Not one.

And that right there should have been the thing that got me. A child who doesn’t complain. You’d think that would melt a person clean through. For me it did the opposite. Her being so good and so quiet about everything just made it easier to keep on going. Bless her heart, she made it easy. Listen to me. I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud.