Chapter 1 - Take This and Leave
“Take this and leave.”
Those were the words my son said before he pushed a heavy white sack into my arms.
Rain poured across the stone steps of the mansion.
My coat was already soaked.
Behind Daniel, his wife Vanessa stood beneath the warm light of the front hall with one hand resting on the carved oak door.
She was smiling.
Not kindly.
Victoriously.
I looked at my son.
For one terrible second, he would not meet my eyes.
“Daniel?”
His jaw tightened.
“Mom, please. Just go.”
The sack was heavy enough to drag my arms down.
I thought it was rice.
That made the humiliation worse.
After thirty-two years of raising him, after selling my little house so he could finish college, after moving into the guest wing because he insisted I should “never be alone again,” my own son was sending me into the rain with a bag of food.
Vanessa folded her arms.
“You heard him, Rose.”
I looked at her.
Then back at Daniel.
His face looked cold.
But his eyes did not.
That was the only reason I kept walking.
I did not beg.
I did not scream.
I whispered, “He’s probably going through a hard time.”
Maybe I said it for myself.
Maybe I said it because mothers can build entire shelters out of excuses.
The gate closed behind me.
By the time I reached the small room I still rented above Mrs. Carter’s laundromat, my hands were numb.
I set the sack on the table.
“At least I’ll have rice for a few days.”
I untied the knot.
There was no rice.
Inside was a white envelope.
One word was written across the front.
MOM.
My hands began to shake.
I opened it.
Hundred-dollar bills spilled onto the table.
Then a folded letter.
The first line took the air from my lungs.
Mom, I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell you in front of her.
I covered my mouth.
Daniel had not thrown me out because he stopped loving me.
He was hiding something.
I kept reading.
I found out what Vanessa did. I found the evidence. If I show her now, she’ll destroy everything. You have to leave tonight.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
At the bottom was one final line.
Tomorrow morning, go to 814 Lexington. Ask for Evelyn Brooks.
Do not call me.
I looked at the rain running down the window.
Then at the money.
Then at the locked door.
May you like
For the first time that night, I was not afraid for myself.
I was afraid for my son.
