Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“This is when your daddy graduated high school,” Silvia sniffles. “He was so smart. He had a five-point-two GPA.”
“What’s a GPA?” Jordan asks, glancing up at her grandmother.
“It’s grades. One day you’ll get grades in school. You want to get good grades so you can go to college, just like your daddy.”
“Did Mommy go to college?”
“No,” Silvia says. “She got pregnant with you.”
“Oh,” Jordan says, turning the page. “Look, it’s Mommy and Daddy and me in my mommy’s belly!” She turns the page again. “That’s me being born.”
“It is,” Silvia says, wiping a tear. “Your daddy loved you so much.”
“Don’t cry, Grandma. Mommy says Daddy’s still here”—she points to her chest—“in our hearts.”
Silvia’s eyes turn into thin slits. “If it weren’t for your mother, he’d still be here.”
“Mommy didn’t hurt him,” Jordan argues. “The fire did! I asked Mommy, and she told me! She said she loves Daddy and didn’t want him hurt.”
“Yeah,” Silvia says, “she loved him so much that she trapped him with a baby and then forced him to work himself into the ground. He died because he was too tired to get out of the fire. The only person your mother loves is herself.”
“That’s enough!” I step through the doorway, having enough of Silvia spouting hateful things about me to my daughter. Over the years, Jordan’s asked me questions that have led me to believe that Silvia has been doing this. I have been hoping I was wrong and chose to let it go without proof. But now, hearing it for myself, I can’t even imagine all the horrible things Silvia has said about me behind my back.
“Mommy!” Jordan flies off the couch and into my arms. “Tell grandma it’s not true. Tell her you didn’t hurt Daddy. The fire did.”
I put her down and kneel in front of her, plastering a smile on my face. Despite wanting to destroy Silvia, I choose to be the bigger person for my daughter’s sake. “Grandma knows it was the fire, Bug, but sometimes when people are sad, they say mean things.”
Jordan purses her lips and looks back at Silvia. “That’s not nice, Grandma.”
Silvia glares my way, and I know we’ve reached the end of the road. Jordan is getting older and understands too much, and I can’t allow her to live in a home with so much animosity and hostility. I should’ve moved out sooner, but the truth is I’m scared. I’ve never lived on my own before and the fear of doing so is what’s kept me and Jordan living under this roof for far too long.
“I was thinking we could go to the park,” I tell Jordan, changing the subject. “Why don’t you go get your shoes on, and I’ll meet you by the front door right after I speak to Grandma.”
“Yay!” Distracted by the idea of going to the park, Jordan runs out to get ready, leaving Silvia and me alone.
“I—” Silvia begins to speak, but I raise my hand, halting her words.
“Whatever bullshit you’re about to spew, don’t bother.”
Her eyes widen in shock because I’ve never spoken so rudely to her before. When someone is giving you and your daughter a place to live at a discounted cost, you don’t mess with them. With every remark, I’ve kept my mouth shut, thankful to have a roof over Jordan’s and my head.
But now, I’ve reached my breaking point. I’m no longer the frightened, pregnant teenager or the mourning twenty-one-year-old. And if I keep allowing her to treat me like shit, what kind of example am I setting for my daughter?
“I appreciate you and Ron giving Jordan and me a place to live these past three years, but I can’t live under the same roof as someone who hates me. It’s not good for anyone, but especially not my daughter. Consider this my notice. Jordan and I will be moving out as soon as possible.”
“You have nowhere to go,” Silvia sneers. “What kind of life do you think you’ll give her working as a waitress?”
“One with love and affection,” is all I say before I turn on my heel and walk out the door.
“Will I have my own room?” Jordan asks as I push her on the swing. She can swing on her own, but she loves to be pushed, and I love to push her.
“Of course.” I make a mental note to find a two-bedroom place. It’ll cost more than a one-bedroom place, but Jordan deserves to continue to have her own room and space.
“Can I bring Dots with me?” she asks, referring to the stuffed ladybug I bought her for Christmas a few years ago. She named it Dots and literally takes it everywhere with her.
“Yep, you can take all your stuff.” If Silvia even thinks about stopping me from taking Jordan’s stuff, we’ll have a problem.