I came home two hours early on a Wednesday and had one hand on the kitchen doorway when I heard my brother laugh and say, “She actually thinks we care about her. Kate’s just a checking account with legs.”
Chapter 2
Mom followed me down the hallway.
“Kate. We’re not finished.”
“I am.”
I went into my bedroom and started closing drawers.
Behind me, she stood in the doorway with her arms folded.
“Don’t be childish.”
“I’m packing.”
“For what?”
“To leave.”
She actually laughed.
That laugh gave me more courage than kindness would have.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“With what money?”
I turned around.
“My money.”
Her face tightened.
“You think because you make a manager’s salary you’re suddenly too good for us?”
“No.”
“You’ve always had this chip on your shoulder about Thomas.”
From the living room, Thomas called, “Leave me out of it.”
I almost smiled.
“You were just talking about me five minutes ago.”
He went quiet.
Mom lowered her voice. “Thomas has struggled.”
“So have I.”
“Not the same way.”
“No. I struggle while employed.”
Her eyes flashed.
“That was cruel.”
The strange thing was, she sounded genuinely offended.
I sat on the edge of my bed.
“Mom, listen to yourself. You heard him call me a piggy bank. You laughed. You called me pathetic. But me saying Thomas doesn’t keep a job is cruel?”
“I never called you pathetic.”
“Yes, you did.”
“You’re upset. People hear things differently when they’re upset.”
I stared at her.
For years, that trick had worked too.
She would say something sharp, then question my memory of it. If I pushed back, I was sensitive. If I cried, I was dramatic. If I withdrew, I was punishing her.
I had spent half my life arguing cases in a courtroom that existed only in my mother’s head, where she was prosecutor, judge, and jury.
I stood.
“I heard you.”
She softened her voice.
“Kate, honey.”
I almost flinched.
Honey meant she was changing tactics.
“You know I love you. But you have to understand the bigger picture. Thomas is still trying to get established. I’m getting older. You’re fortunate.”
“Fortunate?”
“You have a steady job. No children. No husband. No major responsibilities.”
I looked around the bedroom I had occupied for a year while paying the majority of the household expenses.
“So I’m not a responsibility to myself?”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“It is exactly what you said.”
She sighed.
“Someday, when you have a family, you’ll understand.”
I looked directly at her.
“I thought this was my family.”
For once, Mom had no immediate answer.
I slept badly that night.
Every time doubt appeared, Thomas’s voice followed it.
She thinks we care about her.
At two in the morning, I got out of bed and opened my banking app.
I went through twelve months of statements.
Mortgage transfers.
Electric company.
Internet.
Property taxes I had helped cover when Mom came up short.
The plumber.
The car repair.
Thomas’s insurance.
By four-thirty, the total sat on a legal pad beside me.
More than $31,000.
That did not include groceries.
I stared at the figure until it stopped looking like money and started looking like time.
Opening shifts.
Closing shifts.
Holiday weekends.
Inventory nights.
Employees calling out sick.
Customers screaming because their coupon expired.
Thirty-one thousand dollars was a great many hours of my life.
At six, I showered and went to work.
I did not tell Mom or Thomas what I was planning.
For the next week, I behaved normally.
That made them comfortable.
Thomas even asked me for $120 on Friday.
“For what?”
“Phone bill.”
“You have a phone.”
“It’s due.”
“Then pay it.”
He laughed like I had made a joke.
When I didn’t laugh back, he stared.
“You’re still doing this?”
“I told you I was done.”
“Okay, okay. Relax.”
He walked away muttering.
That afternoon, I toured an apartment ten minutes from work.
It was small. One bedroom. Second floor. The kitchen was dated, and the bedroom window faced a parking lot.
I loved it immediately.
Not because it was beautiful.
Because nobody else had a key.
I signed the lease.
Over the next four days, I moved quietly.
Clothes first.
Documents.
My grandmother’s quilt.
A box of old photographs.
The coffee maker I had bought.
A battered bookshelf Thomas once mocked because I had assembled it myself and one shelf leaned slightly.
Nolan, my assistant manager, noticed I was distracted and asked whether I needed time off.
“I’m moving.”
“Congratulations?”
I thought about it.
“Yes.”
By the following Tuesday, almost everything important was gone.
Mom had not noticed.
That hurt in a way I had not expected.
On my final evening in the house, I stood in the bedroom doorway.
The room looked strangely anonymous without my things.
Mom appeared behind me.
“What happened in here?”
“I moved.”
She stared.
“What do you mean, moved?”
“I rented an apartment.”
Her mouth fell open.
“You didn’t discuss that with me.”
“No.”
“Kate, this is ridiculous.”
Thomas came down the hall.
“What’s happening?”
“She’s leaving.”
He looked into the empty room.
Then at me.
“You actually got a place?”
“Yes.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Well, okay. Give yourself a couple weeks. You’ll cool off.”
I picked up my overnight bag.
“I already canceled next month’s mortgage transfer.”
Mom’s face changed.
“You what?”
“The transfer. It’s canceled.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I can. It’s my account.”
“The mortgage is due on the first.”
“I know.”
“What about the electric?”
“You’ll need to put it on your card.”
“My card is maxed out.”
I looked at Thomas.
“Then he can help.”
Thomas actually stepped backward.
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
Mom turned on him.
“Thomas.”
“What? I don’t.”
The two of them stared at each other.
It was almost fascinating.
For the first time, their problem remained inside the room with them instead of automatically traveling to me.
Mom looked back at me.
“You’re really going to leave us like this?”
I adjusted the strap on my bag.
“No.”
She frowned.
“You left me a long time ago.”
Then I walked out.
