I am always drawn back to places where I have lived, the houses and their neighborhoods… even if I wasn’t particularly welcomed or necessarily invited. Sure, I would get the occasional, “Oh, I think we’re forgetting the other one, um, Tiffany!” Or “Would your daughter like to sit at the table,” to which Father would reply, “Ivanka is already seated.” But today is a new day, in a new apartment! It’s my first time hosting the Trump family breakfast!
How excited I am for my family to congregate in my dwelling and see the person I’ve become. Hopefully they’ll be impressed by the pains and research that have gone into the day. According to Wikipedia, Father adores Heinz ketchup, so I purchased an entire fleet at the store for his extra well-done Americanized London Broil steak and eggs. And on CNN, I saw that Brother Eric has a predilection for the sourest of pomegranate juices. The only utensil Brother Don Jr. uses are those little corncob holders that go on the sides of corn, so I went to the nearest nostalgia store and bought a 10-pack. I once read in Forbes that Sister Ivanka whispers to her food before she consumes it, so I found an elevated placemat for her plate which will hopefully lessen the strain she has to put on her neck. I do not know much about Brother Barron, but I cannot wait to meet him!
There are so many things I wish to share with my family! Does Father also have a love for astronomy? Will Don Jr. enjoy the nutty taste of Croatian ice cream after our meal? Will any of them ask how I’ve been doing?
No, Tiffany, do not think like that. Your family loves you. After all, they’re coming for Trump family breakfast! Stop panicking. Do the breathing exercises Dr. Corcoran showed you. Ah, much better.
What a beautiful morning for such a special event! Not a cloud in sight. The golden Trump utensils are on the dining room table. The golden chandelier is being cleaned and extra-goldened. Everything is going according to plan.
Will any of them show up? Tiffany, you must get a hold of yourself. They all RSVP’d MAYBE, which all but assures they’ll be here. In the family email chain, you told all of your siblings’ assistants how important this day is to you. Marietta even responded with a broken heart emoji on behalf of Ivanka.
Relax, breathe. Breathe. The apartment is pristine, and the flower arrangements look absolutely divine!
Do any of them know I’m even here? Are they trying to cut me out of my inheritance? Do they think about me? Will I ever make it into one of Father’s tweet threads? All I’ve ever done was simply be. I constantly inquire and attempt to belong with no reciprocity. When’s the last time any of them remembered my birthday? I’m always treated like an outsider. With this meal, and the effort I’ve put into it, I will cement my place as an integral part of this family.
Ah, an email! From Father’s assistant! Is the driveway cleared for their Escalades? Is the Perrier on the table? Am I re… calm down and open the email, Tiffany.
Thank you for the invitation, but we will be having Trump family breakfast at Jared and Ivanka’s. Feel free to tweet at us when we’re there and say hello.
Donald J. Trump
Strange. This feeling. Not necessarily disappointed or distraught. Merely a recognition of the inevitable. Home is where you feel at home, and I guess I’m still looking. Anyone who ever gave me confidence, well, I owe them a lot. And I feel like I owe these people nothing.
I now go by Tiffany Maples.