I grew up alongside Asher, the grandson of Los Angeles’ wealthiest man. Over the course of ten years, I transformed from his doting sister to his undisclosed lover, ultimately becoming the least troublesome among the myriad women surrounding him. Everyone knew I loved him until the day his idealized love returned from abroad. For her, he dismissed all the other women around him, including me. The night I left, he and his friends laughed uproariously. But later, they all said Asher had gone mad. When I got up from bed, Asher was still asleep. The floor was a mess, and my thigh-high stockings were beyond repair. But I had a meeting at the company this morning. I clicked my tongue, rubbed my sore lower back, and rummaged through the drawer. I was sure I had left a pair there last time, but I couldn’t find them. Just then, a whistle sounded behind me, and Asher’s voice was filled with playful teasing. “Hey, Sis, still got that great figure.” I ignored him. “Where are my socks?” He frowned, thinking about it casually, “I think Sasha or Lily from State University took them last time?” “Can’t remember.” I paused my search. Even though it wasn’t the first time I’d heard him say something like that, my heart ached slightly, tinged with self-mockery. After all these years, haven’t I learned yet? I was never special to him. I sighed deeply and stood up to get dressed. But Asher patted the space beside him, like a lazy big cat, heavily implying. “Why are you leaving so early, Sis?” “I have a morning meeting at the company.” He glanced at me and clicked his tongue, “Is it for that piece of land again? Why work so hard? Stay with me this morning. That land will be yours.”
By the time I got to the company, it was already afternoon. My whole body ached, and as soon as I sat down, Dad called, full of praise. “Mimi, you got that piece of land. Well done this time. Stick with Asher, your brother will need you.” I held the phone, looking at the reflection of a twenty-six-year-old woman in the mirror, full of self-mockery. “Dad, I’m not young anymore. There are plenty of eighteen or nineteen-year-old girls around Asher. How do you think I can keep him?” Dad’s voice noticeably paused. “Besides, this is probably the last time Asher takes care of you.” “Why?” The voice on the other end became tense, “Mabel, did you offend him? Apologize quickly! Your brother…” I gripped the phone tightly. My so-called family was so greedy. In their eyes, as long as I slept with Asher, I could bring resources to the family. I could be anything, but not a person. The overwhelming humiliation finally made my tears fall uncontrollably. “Because Nora is coming back.” I didn’t want to say more and hung up the phone. Outside, the secretary knocked cautiously. “Miss Jiang, the gift you requested is ready. Do you want to take a look?” I wiped away my tears, signaling her to bring it in. The watch in the box was beautiful and expensive. A Vacheron Constantin Flying Dutchman. Just like me, a Flying Dutchman that could never find land.
This was the relationship between Asher and me. You could call it a romance or a transaction of interests. I was probably the most obedient woman around him. After all, my dad needed his family. Since high school, I’ve been constantly reminded, “Take good care of the young master of the Asher family.” I carried his backpack, did his homework, and cleaned up his messes. He went from rejecting me and ordering me around to later secretly beating up an older guy who harassed me. I thought I was special. I watched him grow into a handsome and charming young man. Watched as countless beautiful girls surrounded him. Watched him, even after hanging out with one or several of them the day before, proudly drape his arm over my shoulder the next day. “Remember, this is my sister.” His hand was so warm it almost burned me. I watched as my heart sank, yet I had to hide it carefully. Until that night when he got drunk and called me to pick him up. It was hard to get the drunk cat home, and just as I was about to leave, he reached out and grabbed me. He squinted, half-awake, looking at me with deep affection. “Mimi.” When his kiss landed, I didn’t push him away. No confession, no flowers, just pain. But I savored it. I didn’t expect that the next morning, when Asher woke up, he looked at me with such disdain. “Mabel, you really are…” Really what? I sat up in confusion, not even having time to feel shy as Asher went straight to shower, change, and leave. The door slammed with a loud “bang,” and he didn’t even glance at me. I sat on the bed for a long time, not knowing what I had done wrong. Later, I found out. The day before, my dad begged him to invest in our family’s struggling company. Much later, I learned that he was calling out for Nora. He didn’t love me. That bit of girlish affection died before it even started. From then on, he only called me sister. As if it was a kind of exclusive humiliation from him.
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