Chapter 2

"Where are you going to get money for Iceland?" He was sneering now. "And wedding photos at your age? Jesus, Ainsley. Don't embarrass yourself."

"I'm not trying to—"

"Your health is garbage anyway. Iceland's freezing. You'd just get sick and rack up more medical bills. Stop with this nonsense."

Something inside me snapped. "My health is garbage because I run this entire house by myself! Terry got married and divorced in the same year, and I've been raising Roy alone ever since. I do everything, and you won't even hire someone to help me!"

"That's your job!" Steven's face was going purple. "Look at Liliana. She's out there seeing the world, actually living her life. And you? You're just weak."

"I had a job offer!" My voice cracked. "You're the one who told me to turn it down, said you needed me home while you were getting the business started..."

"Enough! I don't want to hear about this! Shut up!"

The door slammed behind him so hard the picture frames rattled on the walls.

I stood there in a dress meant for another woman, feeling like an intruder in my own house. My hands were shaking as I took it off and folded it back into the box, trying to smooth out any wrinkles.

Then I heard splashing sounds from across the room.

Roy was in the corner, swinging a bottle of milk around, watching it spray all over the hardwood floor.

"Roy, stop it! You're making a huge mess!"

He looked at me with those cold little eyes. "You're just the maid!"

Before I could react, he threw the whole bottle at me. Milk hit my chest and soaked through my shirt, cold and sticky.

"You're ugly and you're weak and you're a monster! I hate you! I want Aunt Liliana!"

"Roy, you can't talk to me like—"

"Mom, did you upset him again?" Terry came out of his room, sounding annoyed. "Just clean it up, okay? I need to leave."

I stared at my son. When exactly did he start looking at me like I was nobody?

"Terry, I'm exhausted. This is the third time this week he's pulled something like this. I'm not the maid!"

"You don't work, so what's the difference?" He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "How else are we supposed to justify keeping you around?"

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

"And honestly, Mom, look at yourself. You're old and you've let yourself go completely. I wish Liliana was my mother."

He went back to his room and shut the door, leaving me there dripping with milk in my ruined shirt.

By late afternoon I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at my hands. When did they start looking like this? The skin was cracked and rough, splitting at the knuckles from years of scrubbing and washing. My back ached from constantly bending over, picking up Roy's toys, getting down on my knees to clean floors, reaching into the dishwasher.

Twenty-five years of this.

I used to have a college degree. A job offer at a prestigious magazine. I had plans, ambitions, a whole future mapped out. Somewhere along the way, I turned into a ghost. Invisible unless I screwed something up, unless I failed to do my job right.

Voices floated up from downstairs. Steven's voice: "Roy, grab your jacket. We're taking Aunt Liliana out to her favorite place for dinner."

Terry: "Can I bring my new game to show her?"

The front door opened. Then closed. And then there was nothing but silence in the whole house.

They hadn't told me they were leaving. Hadn't asked if I wanted to come with them. But why would they? I was the help. The help doesn't get invited to birthday parties.

Nobody even remembered it was our anniversary.

I stood up slowly, feeling all years of my life in every joint and muscle. But as I straightened my spine, something else straightened too.

A little while later, I headed out to the lawyer's office myself.

Once I sat down, the first thing I said was:

"I need to file for divorce."