Me > My Obstacles | Sasha Schaffer

Photo by Marty O’Neill on Unsplash

Whoever said the youngest sibling gets the most attention, told a bald-faced lie. Do they even see me? 

 Logan was the family favorite. He could do no wrong in Mama’s eyes, but what she did not see would shatter her to pieces. I used to think she was more in love with my brother than she was with her husband. 

Having a PH. D in Cardiology, Logan was the golden child who followed all the right steps to success.  

Pops instilled in us at a young age, “If it doesn’t make money, it doesn’t make sense.”  

Completely shitting on Logan’s true passion to write songs.   

Mama stayed home doing a woman’s work while Pops worked the 9 – 5.   

My brother’s smile never reaches his eyes anymore. A blind man could see that he was depressed.  

You could smell the misery trailing from our apartment down to his four-story home. He came over to pick up the dinner that Mama cooked, telling her everything was right in his world.   

She made spaghetti that night – Logan’s favorite.   

Fuck my love for mac and cheese, right?  

Pops came waltzing in, smelling of fruity perfume and adultery like every Wednesday. Kissing Mama on the cheek whispering sweet little nothings in her ear.  

They were planning to pick up on whatever round he left off on with his secretary earlier, I’m sure.  

“Logan, how was your day?” Dad asked, only acknowledging the presence of one of his children.  

“Great Dad!”  

“Bearable” I answered, even though the question wasn’t directed toward me.  

That’s how it always was in this house. I was just someone for them to claim on their taxes.   

In Which My Feelings Don’t Matter  

I came home from school to a U-Haul truck in my parking spot. People in this neighborhood have no respect.  

My uncle was moving in with us. Everyone knew besides me. Shocking right? Maybe he’d actually take .5 seconds out of his day to acknowledge my existence.  

You know the most unfair thing about life? You get put on this earth and get thrown endless bullshit, yet you didn’t even ask to be here.   

My parents were dead wrong for bringing me into such a cruel world.   

He was my mother’s brother.   

The creep of the family.  

The room next door to mine was no longer vacant, Logan’s old bed now being occupied by Uncle B.   

My parents weren’t always the brightest, despite my dad’s degree in law.  

But this shit took the cake for the dumbest idea they’ve had since conceiving me.  

“Oh, hey let’s put my perverted brother in the room next to our nineteen-year-old daughter!”  

Real fucking smart.  

Once again, no one considered me.  

In Which My Brother Confessed  

I always knew there was something different about Logan growing up.   

When we were home alone, I would catch him doing things Mama did. I would catch him in the closet that our parents shared, assuming he was stealing another one of Pop’s hoodies.   

That is until I saw him holding one of Mama’s evening dresses with a conflicted look all over his face.   

Like he wanted to put it on.   

When I saw him later that week in Mama’s makeup bag, I knew only what my 5-year-old brain could comprehend: Logan was not like the other big brothers.   

He traded playing sports for acting. He traded video games for writing songs.  

But years went by, and we grew up. Those mini flashbacks never came to mind again. I thought it was just a phase that teenagers experienced in the process of finding their identity.  

That was until one day many years later of course.   

I was in my room, my safe space where nothing or no one else matters. The only place where I could be myself with no judgement, when I heard Pop’s loud and venomous words pierce through Summer Walker’s song “Over It” blaring through my speakers.  


I scrambled to pause my music to hear more of the ruckus.  

I had so many questions but was too scared to open the door and find my answers.  

Could he be kicking my bum excuse of an uncle out?  

Could he be yelling at me through the door?   

I had been waiting for the day to come when my parents finally tell me to exit stage left.  

That would have been the best day of my life.   

The next words that came from Pop’s mouth were words I thought I’d never hear. “If this is you coming out, you are no longer a son of mine.”    

Then it all made sense.   

I rushed downstairs in a daze and the scene in front of me would be an image ingrained in my brain forever. My brother was standing by the open door with teary eyes. My father’s chest was heaving up and down. My mother was staring daggers at my father.   

I didn’t think anyone noticed my presence until Logan finally broke the silence.  

“If that’s what you wish, I will never set foot in this house or your presence again. If you cannot accept me for who I am, you have no place in my life,” he spat with venom in his words.  

His eyes made contact with mine.  

“Take care of Mom. She’s going to need you” Logan said.  

Those were the last words he said to me before he disappeared out of the house, and out of my life.   

I didn’t think for a moment that would be the last time I would see my brother.   

Breathing at least.  

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