Page 15 of All In
In anger, I turn to face her. “Yes, I do, Mom! Who else is going to help? I’m your only child, and I refuse to watch you guys lose this house, your car, or struggle to buy food and medication. Medication Dad needs. And how else am I going to pay for school? You know it will take Dad a while to find work. It always does. Chad pays really, really well, better than I deserve, and if I can do this for you, please just let me!” The words come out strangled.
My mom places both of her hands on my face. “Not if it means sacrificing your happiness,” she whispers. Hearing my mom say this causes my chest to break open. And that’s when the tears flow. I fall into my mom’s arms and let the loss of Sam come out in a way that I haven’t allowed to happen yet since the bathroom the day I gave him the letter. Mostly because Chad is always by my side, and he can’t know how much this hurts.
“Maria, look at me, please,” my mom demands. I pull my head away from her work shirt, now wet from my tears. “What did the letter say?”
We walk back to the couch. I lie down as she guides my head down onto her lap and rubs my hair. Just like when I was a child. “He thinks I left him for Chad’s money. He said the most beautiful things about how he felt about me. Ihurt him deeply, Mom. I’ve ruined him and the life that we had planned.” The sobs become louder.
Her body stiffens, and she stops rubbing my hair. “Does Chad treat you well?”
What an odd question to ask. But then I realize why she’s asking. She is reluctant to fight me on ending things with Sam anymore. It’s pretty obvious that I’ve made my decision, and she feels as trapped as I do. As long as he treats me well, she is okay with allowing her daughter to live a life that she won’t be happy in. For money.
My parents will never look the same to me again. Ever.
“Yes,” I lie. My mom tenses up because she knows I’m not being truthful.
But what else am I supposed to say? If she’s willing to go along with this whole charade, then who am I to tell her that Chad is manipulative and emotionally abusive with tendencies toward violence?
“I’m always here for you if you need anything,” she whispers as she continues to rub my head.
“I know.” Another tear falls.
She nudges for me to sit up, and as I face her, tears stream down her cheeks. “I’m going to go shower, and I’ll come back down and help you pack, okay?” She kisses me on the forehead, then she disappears up the stairs.
I peel myself off the couch and stand up, feeling the weight of my life choices in my bones. I kneel back down in front of the CD rack and weed through them again. Wondering what Sam is doing right now.
Wondering if I will see him again someday.
Chapter seven
Six months later
Maria
“Ithink this is all of it,” Dad says, his arms straining and sweat rolling down his temples as he carries in the last box from his car.
“Thanks, Dad,” I reply. “How are you feeling?” I ask as I rest my hand gently on his forearm.
He gives me a small smile as he squeezes my shoulder. “I’m fine, sweetie. Just knowing you are safe is enough.” I can’t look at him or I’ll burst into tears, so instead, I scan my old bedroom, trying to figure out how to put my life back together again. Boxes are everywhere, clothes on hangers rest on my bed, and garbage bags full of what, I don’t know, rest at my feet.
My mom walks in, holding out a glass of water for both my dad and me. I happily take it. “Do you need help getting anything unpacked?” she asks, looking around the room as I gulp down the cold water. I hold up a finger as a signal to give me a second. The water feels so refreshing after packing my stuff up from the apartment Chad rented for me and then hauling it up the stairs to my room. Sweat beads on my brow. My arms and legs feel like Jell-O, yet I have never felt better in my whole life.
“Ah!” I exclaim as I sit the glass down on my dresser. “No. I’m good, guys.” I zero in on a box and open it. We had no time to label anything, so Ihave no clue what’s inside. For the first time in a long time, my parents have been there for me. But honestly, I need to do this alone.
Earlier today, Chad and I broke up. And it wasn’t pretty.
Our relationship was never a relationship. Granted, he thought it was. Once I broke up with Sam, Chad was sweet and kind to me. He would shower me with gifts, he would take me to expensive restaurants, he gave me a beautiful apartment to live in. But also, in exchange for these things, I was at his mercy. He controlled my life. And he knew it. Slowly, he alienated me from my parents.
These last six months have been an endless cycle of misery, and I’ve despised every single second of it. I did it for my parents, despite my suffering.
Do I regret it?
That’s a hard one to answer.
My biggest regret, the one thing that will forever haunt me, is the pain I caused Sam. I’m sure I shattered him. The overwhelming feelings of loneliness and sorrow that consumed me during my time with Chad were deserved.
However, the money Chad paid me helped tremendously in getting my parents somewhat back on their feet. Paying for my schooling was the last thing on my mind. All I wanted was to help Mom and Dad.
In time, my mom graduated from nursing school and got a job at the hospital, where she worked as a janitor. After that, I knew the time had come to leave Chad, but I needed to formulate a plan to make that happen. He would not let me go easily.
