Chapter 3 - The Work I Never Applied For
I read the withdrawal message three times.
"Family needs me at home," I whispered.
"You said that when I told you about Northvale."
Mom took a step toward the paper.
"People say things."
"Not those exact things, in my student portal, from my house."
"Watch your tone."
There it was: the rule that had governed my childhood.
Whenever I got close to the truth, my voice became the problem.
"I watched Jo when she had the flu," I said.
"I missed my senior trip because you booked a wedding reception."
"And you had a roof over your head."
"I was your kid, not your employee."
Her eyes flashed.
"Then who's supposed to keep this family running?"
Renee stepped between us.
"An adult. Ideally the one in charge of it."
I almost smiled, but Lila was crying on the stairs.
I went to her before the argument could become another memory she had to carry.
"Will Mom make me take care of Jo when you're gone?" she whispered.
"No," I told her, then stopped.
I couldn't promise something I couldn't control.
"I'll help make sure the adults figure out another plan."
"You always say adults," Lila said.
"But you're the only one who comes when I call."
That hurt worse than anything Mom had said.
I hugged both girls, then went to my room and took out my suitcase.
Under my bed was Dad's old carpenter's notebook.
He'd died seven years earlier, and on the first page he'd written: Measure twice. Don't let anybody else decide where your walls go.
I had used that line in my scholarship essay.
I checked the small fireproof folder where Mom kept our documents.
My high school diploma was there.
My vaccination record was there.
My birth certificate and Social Security card were not.
When I asked Mom for them, she smiled without looking up from her catering invoices.
May you like
"I put them someplace safe," she said.
"You'll get them when you stop making foolish decisions."
