My cousin, Kayla Sullivan, had been studying for years and finally, this year, secured a teaching position in the public school district. As her only close relative in the city, I felt it was only right to treat her to a celebratory dinner. Kayla specifically chose “The Gilded Spoon,” a place where a single meal could easily set you back three hundred dollars a head. I winced, but agreed. She proactively made the reservation, chirping that she had a special "gift" for me that day and that I absolutely had to dress up. On the appointed day, I put in my daily contacts, slipped into a fresh dress, and strapped on my sky-high heels. Fearing rush hour traffic would delay me, I even took a cab to the restaurant ahead of time. “Hello, I'm here for a reservation under Kayla Sullivan.” “Let me check for you… Ms. Sullivan booked our largest private dining room.” Largest room? I frowned, confused. I followed the hostess to the private room, pushed open the door... A massive dining table sprawled before me, surrounded by over a dozen people. They all turned, as one, to stare at me. “There must be a mistake,” I said, “there are only two of us.” “No mistake at all! This is it!” “Rachel! You're finally here!” Kayla, in a vibrant red cocktail dress, emerged from the crowd, pulling me by the arm to sit down as she spoke. “Didn't you say you were taking me out to dinner? I ordered the food ages ago! We've just been waiting for you!” “Oh! Sis, that bracelet is gorgeous.” I quickly twisted the jade bracelet away from her view. Kayla had a habit of “borrowing” my things since childhood, and “just looking” often meant “never returning.” I hissed at her in a low voice, “Kayla, I said I'd take you out to dinner. Who are all these people?!” “Oh, these are all my study buddies and future colleagues from various universities!” she chirped. “You said you were treating me, right? So I just invited everyone along!” Excuse me? Doesn't she understand basic etiquette? You don't bring your own guests to someone else's treat! I managed a weak, awkward laugh. “Well, since you have friends here, I won't intrude. I'll just head out.” “You're not going anywhere, Rachel Green!” Kayla's voice suddenly pierced the air. “It's just dinner, you'll get to know them! Besides, how much can it possibly cost? You own a house in the city, what's a little cash to you?” I'm poor because I bought a house! Mortgage payments! Renovations! They're crushing me! There are over a dozen people here, at three hundred a head, this meal is going to be almost five thousand dollars! Are you kidding me?! Her gaze remained fixed on my bracelet. “Look at that clarity! How much was it?! Honestly, Rachel! You buy yourself such expensive things, but you're too stingy to spend a little on me!” Are those even comparable? Before I could even retort, Kayla's so-called 'friends' chimed in. “Is this your rich cousin? It's just one meal, why be such a miser?” “Exactly! Your sister finally landed her dream job! Don't ruin the celebration!” Kayla grabbed a bottle, ready to pour me a drink. I recognized it: Dom Pérignon?! “This is all about networking, Rachel, don't look so glum! Come on, let's toast!” she continued. “Didn't I say I had a gift for you? Take a look!” A guy who looked old enough to be my father winked at me. “To my left, this is Gary. He's forty, divorced with two kids, and works at a local university. Then there's Steve, a little heavier but younger, he's your age and landed his job with me. And there's also...” She rattled off a list of 'gifts' – potential suitors, apparently. I waved my hand, resisting. “These are your 'gifts'?” “Yeah! You're in your thirties and still single, right? I'm just trying to set you up with a few good catches!” With that, their glasses clinked against mine. I looked at balding Gary, pot-bellied Steve, and pock-marked Mark, as Kayla whispered excitedly in my ear, “These are all rock-solid government jobs! You'd be marrying up!” I forced a strained, unconvincing smile. “Why does your cousin look so unhappy? Does she think we're not good enough?” “Even if I'm on my second marriage, I've got full benefits and a pension! I'll be set for life!” “She's no beauty queen, just a plain Jane really. And I'll be clear, after we get married, you'll still have to work.” … “Rachel, just for my sake, have a drink!” I was seconds away from smashing my glass and walking out when, fortuitously, my mom called. “You took Kayla out to dinner? Do you have enough money?” Kayla was the middle child, with an older and younger brother. Her family wasn't well-off, and she'd always felt a bit neglected. Her pocket money often came from petty theft, a habit the family knew about but rarely confronted. Because of her tendency to freeload and her light fingers, she almost didn't get into college. In the end, it was the relatives who chipped in for her tuition. Mom always said Kayla had it tough, and since we were in the same city, I should look out for her. Growing up steeped in her struggles, I felt a deep sense of sympathy. I personally drove her to her university, but when I turned around, I noticed five hundred dollars missing from my purse. I didn't say anything; I knew her family gave her no allowance. From then on, I started giving her five hundred dollars a month for pocket money. By her senior year, I'd increased it to a thousand. She never once thanked me, instead always complaining she was broke and that the allowance was too little. She majored in literature, which didn't lead to many job opportunities, and she refused to go back home to take the civil service exam. So, as a compromise, she decided to pursue teaching. After graduation, with nowhere to go, I let her stay with me rent-free. She used my things without asking, wore my clothes, used my bags without hesitation, always brushing off my concerns with a breezy, “Aren't you my sister?” After watching her struggle to find a job for over six months, I pulled some strings, tapped into my network, and found her a substitute teaching position at a private academy. Instead of gratitude, she accused me of trying to sabotage her. “A private elementary school?! Don't you know I'm qualified for middle school? And it's just a contract position! How can that compare to a tenured role? The pay is half, and I'd be stuck with all the grunt work!” Plenty of people work while studying for certification, but with her, it became my fault. Furious, I told her to get out! But then she demanded three thousand dollars a month in living expenses, saying it would help her “get by” until she “made it big” and could pay me back. I know the difference between generosity and obligation, and how favors can turn into resentment! I flat-out refused to fund her and kicked her out. She secretly called me heartless, blocked my number in protest, and for the first couple of years, she didn't show up at family gatherings or visit our home during the holidays. I didn't care; I just figured my kindness had been wasted. But in the last year or so, she reconnected, even asking if there was any chance for another contract teaching gig. “No way! They only hire recent graduates! You missed your window, you just need to focus on passing the exam yourself!” She underestimated the exam. Many schools require teaching experience, and aside from a few openings for exceptional teachers, most positions go to those already working under contract. To survive in the city, she worked DoorDash by day and burned the midnight oil studying by night. Her social media, once full of ambitious pronouncements, grew silent. She took the exam for four years, and finally, she passed, securing a spot at a new suburban elementary school. Mom suggested I treat her to dinner, and I figured, as her only close relative in the city, I should acknowledge her achievement. But she couldn't pull a stunt like this on me, could she? After my call, I returned to the dining room to find Kayla telling the waiter she wanted to box up leftovers. “You haven't even eaten much yet? Are you leaving?” “Oh, I'm not leaving~ My boyfriend hasn't eaten yet, I'm ordering some fresh dishes to take back to him.” Seriously? Eating here and taking food to go! “Um... Kayla, my husband didn't get dinner tonight, could I get a doggy bag too?” An older woman suddenly turned to me and asked. I was stunned into silence. What in the world was happening? Kayla interjected before I could speak: “Of course! My cousin Rachel is the most generous person ever!” “Then I'll pack a little too, I have two kids at home...” I was completely speechless. They truly had no shame. “Rachel~ Is that okay?” Kayla winked at me, practically begging. I just smiled back, a sudden thought sparking in my mind. “Yes! Absolutely! Order whatever you want, as much as you want!” You want to eat? I'll let you eat your fill! Want more food? I ordered double portions. Want more drinks? Only Dom Pérignon. Whether it was exotic delicacies or seafood, I didn't even glance at the prices; I ordered the biggest, most expensive options. “Rachel! You're giving me so much face! I thought you'd be furious that I brought so many strangers without even asking first.” Oh? So she does understand social etiquette, after all! “Today's a huge milestone for you, how could I, your big sister, ever be anything less than welcoming?” “You're right~ I've finally got a rock-solid job now~ Totally different from you, a regular wage slave!” She tilted her chin up proudly again. “Did any of those guys I introduced you to catch your eye? I'm telling you...” I quickly waved my hand. “I'm not looking to get married, thanks.” “You're in your thirties! Aren't Aunt and Uncle worried?” Too lazy to listen to her lecture, I poured her another drink. Watching the table of them, all flushed and giddy from the food and drinks, I prepared to make my exit. “Sis? Where are you going? You're not planning to ditch us, are you?!” “Why would you think that? My purse is right here!” I pointed to my old canvas tote bag on the chair, and she snickered. “Your salary isn't bad, how come you can't even afford a mid-range designer bag~ Go on, go on~” She patted her own obviously fake designer bag as she spoke. I just smiled and said nothing. A canvas bag isn't worth anything, which made it all the easier to sneak away~ “Sis! Where did you go?! The waiter's trying to get the check!” “I went home! I already Venmo'd you my share and yours.” “Didn't you say you were treating today?!” “I am! I'm treating you, not your friends!” “Sis! How could you do this?!” “How could I do this? You don't understand basic etiquette, bringing guests to my treat! And then you try to set me up on blind dates? What kind of guys were those? Your own mother would think they're too old! What were you even thinking?!” “But—” “No 'buts'! I'm hanging up!” “Hey! Rachel! Sis! Rachel Green!” I leaned back comfortably in my chair as the waiter brought me a perfectly cooked steak. From where I sat, I had a perfect view of Kayla's private dining room diagonally across from me. Inside, the whole group was staring at each other, stunned. The waiter's face had darkened. He stood, arms crossed, holding the massive bill. “Who's paying for this?!” Kayla looked up, mortified. “How about... we all just split the bill?” “Kayla Sullivan! You said you were treating me to dinner!” “But you guys were the ones drinking all that liquor!” “Didn't you drink? And didn't you say your cousin was loaded and it was time she bled a little after not giving you allowance for years?!” “Kayla Sullivan! Do you even want your job?! Don't forget who pulled strings for you!” “She's paying! She said she was treating!” ....
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