Page 213 of Invisible Bars

“Renee, just because I left this raggedy-ass block doesn’t mean I’m wrong for leveling up!”

She smirked, unmoved. “No, but you’re wrong for acting like the block that raised you is like a stain you can’t wait to bleach out!”

I didn’t have a comeback, so I turned toward the couch where mother sat.

“Mother, y-you’re not going to say anything?!”

She didn’t even look up; she just kept crocheting, treating our argument like a passing breeze—felt, but not worth reacting to.

“Mother?” Renee repeated, dragging the word like it offended her ears. “Girl, you sound just like them white folks you eat brunch with. We sayMamaorMaaround here.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s calledgrowth.You should try it.”

“Oh, I’ve grown plenty; I just didn’t grow out of my damn roots,” she shot back. “You remember when we used to split a twin bed? Huh? Or what about when we ate peanut butter off spoons ‘cause there wasn’t any bread?”

“Idoremember… which is exactly why I marriedwealthyso I’d never have to live like that again! So excuse me for choosing progress over poverty!” I argued.

“You didn’t chooseprogress, Giselle; you chosedistance and forgetting.”

“Oh please!” I scoffed with a dismissive wave. “Just because I don’t glorify struggle doesn’t mean I forgot! I remember plenty! Like how you used to steal my clothes and lie about it! And… how you ran off and left Mother to deal with everything while you played street nurse to every man with a broken mixtape!”

Renee’s face twisted. “Nowwho’s throwing low blows?”

“You started it!” I shot back, childishly.

“You damn sure gon’ wish I ended it,” Renee slightly threatened me.

“Enough!” Mother shouted, sharp and loud, not even lifting her head from her yarn.

Both of us froze mid-breath.

“This is my birthday, not y’all’s battleground!”

Mother’s hands never stopped moving. She was calm and composed. But her tone? Ice.

“If y’all wanna fight, go in the backyard with the rest of the fools in this world! But you ain’t gon’ do it in my damn living room!”

I stood and adjusted my blouse.

“I’ma just go. I have somewhere else to be anyway. You know… nail appointments, a business lunch at the Four Seasons, a quick fitting for a charity gala, maybe a last-minute trip to the Hamptons… a privileged life,” I tossed in Renee’s face, sweet as syrup but sharp as a tack.

Renee narrowed her eyes. “Always running and finding something shiny to hide behind.Giselle, money changes your clothes, not your bloodline. Remember that.” Renee shook her head then stood.“But yeah, I gotta get going too. I just came to tell Ma happy birthday.”

I wanted to say,Oh please, you’re probably just on your way to some man’s house who still wears cologne from the gas station and thinks a Bluetooth earpiece is sexy,but I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t do so just out of respect for our mother, but because Renee could fight. And I was far too pretty to be nursing bruises for the rest of the week.

Renee paused at the door, her hand on the knob. She didn’t look back at first, but her voice came low, almost tired.

“We were supposed to be richtogether, sister.Remember?”

She turned her head just slightly, enough for me to catch the edge of that old hurt in her eyes.

“You didn’t just leave the hood… you leftmein it.”

Renee turned fully toward Mother, softening her tone.

“Happy birthday again, Ma. I’ll call you later.”

And with that, she walked out.