Chapter 5: Plastic Knife, Real Pain
"I am!" I said without hesitation. With Mom, I’d go anywhere.
But divorce wasn’t easy. Back then, it was shameful, and everyone would talk. The whispers in the grocery aisles would turn to shouts behind closed doors.
Grandma once told Mom, "You’ll never divorce my son. Even if you die, you die in my house! Alive, you’re our family’s, dead, you’re our family’s!" The words were a curse, heavy and binding.
She even hid the marriage certificate and Mom’s ID so she couldn’t leave. It was like being trapped in a nightmare, no way out.
But she didn’t expect she’d be the one to force Mom to divorce.
One day, Mom’s stomach hurt so bad she couldn’t get up. The family feared complications from the miscarriage, so they called Dr. Harris from down the street. He was kind, his hands gentle as he checked Mom over.
He said after the miscarriage, Mom was hurt so badly she’d never be able to have children again. His words were soft, but they landed like thunder.
"How can that be!" Grandma wailed, wringing her hands. "Then who’ll carry on the Johnson name? Our line ends with this girl!"
Dad’s face was dark, silent. The disappointment in his eyes was sharper than any slap.
Only I cared if Mom was still in pain. I squeezed her hand, willing her to stay with me.
"Doc, can you fix it?" Grandma asked, voice trembling. "Even if we have to sell the house, just fix her."
"You want kids, you need a big hospital. That’ll run you tens of thousands." Dr. Harris’s voice was matter-of-fact, but there was sympathy in his eyes.
At that, Grandma, who’d just promised to sell everything, went quiet, looking troubled. Her love had a price tag, after all.
"It’s all your fault! You killed my grandson! You ended our family!" Grandma started to hit Mom. I blocked her, standing between them, my arms outstretched.
"Frank," Dad said, pulling Grandma back. "I have a solution. Don’t worry."
No one expected Dad’s solution was to bring home a pregnant woman. The shock in the room was palpable.
The whole family was stunned. Mom went pale, speechless, her hands clutching the bedsheet.
Dad looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mom, this is Jessica. She’s pregnant with my child—seven months along."
Seven months—right when Mom was pregnant. So it was her! My blood boiled.
Jessica hid behind Dad, looking scared, her eyes darting around the room.
"Where are you from, you homewrecker! Seducing a married man—shameless!" Grandma spat. Jessica blushed, mortified, shrinking back.
Grandma was old-fashioned, couldn’t accept it at first. Her face twisted with rage and disbelief.
"Mom!" Dad defended Jessica, patting her belly like a trophy. "There’s your grandson in here."
Grandma stared, then broke into a grin, her mood shifting in an instant.
"Why didn’t you say so! How could I let a pregnant woman stand so long!" She helped Jessica sit, then glared at Mom, her eyes icy.
"You should be generous. Couldn’t give us a son? Someone else will!"
Jessica looked at Mom, smug, holding her belly like a shield. The sight made my fists clench.
I clenched my fists, wanting to hit her, but Mom held me back, her grip gentle but firm.