Nick moved in behind me, his presence like a wall against the storm. He wrapped me in his arms and I let him. I needed the weight of him. Needed to feel tethered to something solid.
“Mom,” I whispered, voice barely more than a breath.
She looked up, and there it was—that sad little smile. The kind that made you feel like you were watching someone break in real time.
“Oh, hi honey,” she said, sniffling. “I was just looking through some old pictures. I forgot about a lot of these.” Her voice cracked a little. “You were such a beautiful girl, still are.”
Nick and I exchanged a glance—his eyes searching mine, like he wanted to reach in and carry the weight for me—but we both turned back to her in silence.
“Sometimes I wish…” She trailed off, not finishing her sentence. “We are so dumb when we are young. If I only knew now what I didn’t know then.”
“Mom?”I took a step closer. “What are you talking about?”
She stood up, causing Loco to jump off her lap and he trotted over to me. He sat in between Nick and I.
“I did it,” she said, finally picking up the freshly opened vodka bottle and pouring some into a glass. She swung back the shot, thenmade a sour face as she downed it. Instinctively, I reached for my throat, remembering the familiar burn that alcohol gave when it slid down, numbing the pains as the warm sensation filled my core.
“I told your dad, I want a divorce.”
My heart nearly stopped. She’s never played with the idea of ever leaving my dad. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her threaten him with the D word once. Granted, I never heard them fight, which was odd, since most couples fought—most couples who had some passion in their marriage anyway.
“You asked Richard for a divorce?”
“Yup,” she says, popping the p. She begins pacing back and forth. “I just have no idea what I’m going to do.” She stops to face me. “You know I can’t go back to that life we lived before Richard, I never want to be poor again.”
“Mom, it’s okay.” I walked closer to her and took her hands in mine. “I’m sure Richard will give you some money. He never cared when you spent it, so I don’t see why he wouldn't give you anything.”
“You guys were married for eleven years, right? You’ll get half his money.” Nick says with his back straight and shoulders out.
I whip my head around and see my mom laughing hysterically, and for a second, I thought she was deranged and genuinely lost it. Nick’s eyebrows draw together as he tilts his head slightly to the side.
“That’s the thing,” she says, bellowing over now.
“I signed a—” She’s laughing so hard she can’t even finish her sentence. Nick and I exchanged a look, and I bit my lip, starting to worry now. Her laughter began to subside, and she headed over to the coffee table where the vodka bottle sat and grabbed it, not bothering to pour any in the cup this time. Tipping the bottle back, she takes a swig.
“A prenup.” Her voice comes out scratchy as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
“A what?” My voice cracks with emotion.
“A fucking prenup.”
“Oh shit,” Nick mutters under his breath and even Loco whines tilting his head to the side.
“Can I ask why?” I asked cautiously.
“Because I’m an idiot. He wanted to make sure I loved him and not his money, so I wanted to prove to him I did and told him to go ahead and make me sign a prenup. I didn’t think he would actually agree to it, but when he did, I couldn’t back down. And that’s when you were getting made fun of at school, because I couldn’t even buy you a new pair of shoes.”
My stomach rolls, and chills run down my spine as the memory of our old apartment comes flooding back.
“We were so broke, I had to look at the expiration date on every food before eating it, especially since you got sick one time and I had to rush you to the hospital, and then we got stuck with a huge medical bill. Remember that?”
I did remember. God, how could I forget?
It’s why I haven’t touched mac and cheese in almost eleven years. The memory is burned into my body like a brand. I was starving—gnawing, twisting, soul-deep hunger—and my mom told me she had to run down to her car. That meant at least twenty minutes. It always did. I didn’t know what she was doing back then, just that when she came back she smelled different, smiled too wide, and sometimes men I didn’t know would show up not long after.
But I know now.
“I do,” I say, barely louder than the breath catching in my throat.
