Almost.
Instead, I kept it.
The finished slideshow was seven minutes long.
It opened with soft piano music.
Baby Elise covered in birthday cake.
Elise dressed as a fairy princess.
Me in the background wearing a homemade cardboard robot costume.
Everyone laughed when that image appeared.
I watched from the kids’ table.
The room relaxed.
People smiled.
My parents looked pleased.
Elise leaned against Carson.
Exactly what everyone expected.
Then came the school years.
Elise holding trophies.
Elise at dance recitals.
Elise graduating.
In nearly every clip, Mom and Dad were clapping, cheering, surrounding her.
Then the tone shifted.
Very slightly.
The music slowed.
The images remained familiar.
But now I appeared more often.
At the same events.
Standing behind everyone.
Watching.
Smiling.
Barely acknowledged.
In one old video, Dad’s voice could clearly be heard behind the camera.
“Don’t film Ian. Keep it on Elise.”
A relative laughed.
Then another voice said,
“Ian always looks like he’s about to cry.”
There was laughter in the recording.
The reception room became noticeably quieter.
People began glancing at one another.
Then came my college graduation.
There I was walking across the stage in my cap and gown.
My name was announced.
The camera zoomed toward me.
But instead of cheering, Dad’s voice came through clearly.
“Finally. Maybe now he’ll get a job and move out.”
The footage froze briefly on my face.
Then faded.
Mom shifted in her chair.
The next clip showed Elise opening a birthday envelope stuffed with cash.
She laughed at the camera.
“They didn’t give Ian anything last year. Dad said he was too old for presents.”
Then Christmas.
Dad handed Elise car keys.
She screamed with excitement.
The camera swept past me sitting silently on the couch.
By then, nobody in the reception hall was laughing.
You could hear forks touching plates.
Even the kids at my table had stopped playing.
My uncle leaned toward Dad and whispered something.
Dad’s face had gone dark.
Mom was holding a napkin near her mouth.
And Elise had stopped smiling entirely.
Then the balcony footage began.
The image shook slightly.
Wind moved through the microphone.
Elise’s voice came through the speakers.
“It’s not like I love Carson-love him…”
I didn’t even need to turn toward the head table.
I could feel the panic spreading from there.
The clip continued.
“But he’s loaded…”
Then came the line about me.
The side character.
The movie nobody wanted to finish.
When the clip ended, the screen faded to black.
A final sentence appeared in white letters.
Sometimes the quiet ones remember everything.
Then the projector shut off.
The lights came back on.
Nobody knew what to do.
Someone cleared their throat.
