Chapter 6: Secrets and Sins Next Door
She said calmly, "Since someone else is giving you a child, Frank, let’s divorce." Her voice was steady, but I saw the pain in her eyes.
"No way." Dad cut her off. "She’s here, what’s it to you? Just stay home and behave."
I was shocked—he wanted both women. Shameless! The room spun with anger and disbelief.
I couldn’t take it. That night, Mom whispered, "Don’t worry, I have a plan." Her voice was low, but there was steel in it.
From then on, Mom got sicker. Her stomach ached, her color faded. She moved like she was carrying the weight of the world.
Dr. Harris came again and said Mom had depression—a sickness of the mind. She could die any day. The words sent a chill through me.
"Kick her out!" I overheard Grandma tell Dad. "If she dies here, we pay for her funeral! That’s thousands! What are you waiting for?"
Dad hesitated, but finally agreed. The relief in his eyes made me sick.
I thought Mom was really dying, cried by her bed, but she smiled—
"Don’t worry, I’m just pretending." Her wink was small, but it was hope.
Turns out she and Dr. Harris had worked together, and the infertility diagnosis was a trick to fool Dad and Grandma. They believed it, and finally kicked Mom out. The court awarded me to Mom. It was the first time in years I felt the world tilt in our favor.
When we left, Grandma threw my backpack and clothes after us. "Get out! Let’s see how you survive without Frank!"
"Don’t worry, we’ll live better and longer than you!" I shot back, my voice ringing with defiance.
Grandma’s eyes bulged, and she screamed for Dad to hit me.
"You dare?!" Mom shielded me, facing Dad’s fist. "We’re not your family anymore. Touch us and you’ll go to jail!"
Dad cursed, "Useless brat!"
"I’m useless? I’ll make more of myself than you ever dreamed! Just watch!" The words flew out before I could stop them, but I meant every one.
They knew I was good at school, but so what? What future did a girl have? She’d just get married. That was their belief, not mine.
But Mom said she’d sell everything to send me to college. Her determination was fierce, unwavering.
At that time, I was a sophomore in high school—a crucial year. After the divorce, Mom got a few thousand dollars from Dad. We moved into a tiny apartment in town. It was small, but it was ours. The first night, we ate ramen on the floor and laughed like we hadn’t in years.
Mom embroidered slippers, wove baskets, did odd crafts to sell at the farmers’ market. She made forty or fifty bucks a day—ten was enough for my meals. Every dollar was a victory.
One day, selling slippers with Mom, we saw Jessica and Dad shopping. The sight of them together made my stomach twist.
"Oh, so this is how you live? Can you even eat?" Dad mocked, his voice dripping with contempt.