I never told my “mama boy” husband that I was the one who bought back his house and paid off all his debts. He believed his mother had saved him, while I was nothing more than a useless housewife. On Christmas Day, I spent the entire day preparing dinner, yet his mother refused to let me sit at the table. “You look filthy. I can’t enjoy my meal if I have to look at your face,” she said. I went to change my clothes and sat down again—only to be shoved so hard. “Don’t you understand? My mother doesn’t want to eat with you.” Blood streamed from my head, but they pretended not to see it. I calmly picked up my phone and called the police. “I’d like to report a crime,” I said. “Illegal trespassing and assault.”

Editoron

Chapter 6: Freedom

Two Weeks Later

The wind on the porch was cold, but the beer in my hand was colder.

I sat on the swing of my father’s log cabin, wrapped in a thick wool blanket. My head was healing; the bandage was gone, leaving only a thin pink line near my hairline. A scar. A reminder.

My phone buzzed on the railing. I picked it up.

Bank Notification: Wire Transfer Received. $850,000.00.

I smiled.

The house on Maple Drive was sold. I had put it on the market the day after Christmas. It sold in a bidding war.

Mark hadn’t contested the divorce. He hadn’t contested the sale. In fact, his lawyer had called mine within 24 hours of the arrest to say that Mark would sign whatever I wanted, as long as he didn’t have to see my father again. He waived his rights to the house, the assets, everything. He was currently living in a motel on the edge of town, waiting for his court date. Agnes had moved back in with a distant cousin in another state.

My father walked out onto the porch, carrying a cardboard box.

« Previous Next »