AllFreeNovel
Share Us
1
Lily
I looked down at the crumpled five-dollar bill in my right hand…and then at the jar of chunky peanut butter in my left. Peanut butter is a good source of protein and energy—a little bit can keep you going for quite a long time. But the price tag on the side of the jar read $4.99.
I had enough change to cover the tax, but if I spent it, that was it—I was officially out of funds—a nice way of saying “flat broke.”
I considered the peanut butter again and then looked out the large plate glass window of the Grab N Go, which was the last gas station around for miles. My tired old Chevy minivan was riding on empty. If I spent my last five dollars and change on food, I was going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future. Or at least until someone got sick of seeing me out in the small parking area and called to get me towed away. Then what would I do? I couldn’t just?—
“Hey, lady—you gonna buy that or what?”
The clerk’s voice broke my train of thought and I looked up to see him smirking at me, his long hair flopping in his face. I bet he thought girls liked that. I thought about telling him he was wrong and decided against it—I was too tired and hungry to pick a fight. Especially with someone who could get me towed if he wanted to.
“No…I guess not.” Reluctantly, I put the peanut butter back on the shelf with the other overpriced groceries. Things always cost more at the gas station but there was no grocery store anywhere around—not that I could afford much of anything there either.
If I used the money for gas, I could possibly make it to the local food pantry tomorrow, I told myself. And maybe they could point me in the direction of a women’s shelter. I hated to go stay someplace like that, but it was time to admit defeat—I couldn’t keep living in my car forever.
I walked up to the counter and laid the crumpled five-dollar bill on the counter.
“Five dollars of regular on pump six,” I told the clerk, who rang me up without comment.
I watched as the five disappeared into his register. It was my emergency money—the bill I’d always kept in the tiny back pocket of my purse in case I ran short. Parting with it hurt—and it hurt even more to use it for gas.
My stomach was growling angrily at me, but I told myself I wasn’t starving yet. I still had plenty of padding on my hips and ass. I’ve always been a curvy girl. I used to joke that I could live off my curves for months—now I was testing that theory and finding that it wasn’t much fun. Also, even though I hadn’t had enough to eat in what felt like forever, I still wasn’t anywhere near skinny—how is that fair?
I went out and pumped the gas, noticing that the minivan’s left front tire was worryingly low. I might have enough change to use the air machine and fill it up, but I didn’t want to deal with it tonight.
Instead, I pulled around to the far side of the tiny parking lot at the back of the Grab N Go, far out of everyone’s way. The gas station was out in the back of beyond—I’d ended up here after taking a wrong turn—and the area was pretty rural.
The lot was backed by a small field that sloped down into a thick forest. I could hear the wind rustling in the trees but I couldn’t see much past what the sodium arc lights mounted over the pumps showed.
It was already getting chilly—not surprising since the area was right at the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains and it was Autumn. I wished I could turn on the car and run the heater, but I didn’t dare waste the pitiful bit of fuel that my last five dollars had bought me. Instead, I turned around and rummaged in my big duffle bag which held pretty much everything I owned in the world. I managed to wrestle my winter coat out of the bag and dragged it on.
I hadn’t worn it since last winter and I couldn’t help thinking how different my life had been back then—not even a year ago. We’d had a family Christmas with everyone gathered in the big house in Ashville that Christopher had been able to buy after he made partner. Both the kids were there—Amy had flown in from France where she was doing a study abroad program and Chris Junior had brought his new wife all the way from Oregon.
Thinking of my step kids always gave me a warm glow. I might not have given birth to them, but I had raised them from the ages of three and five—for all intents and purposes, I was their mom.
I had met their father, Christopher—now my ex—back in the early 2000s when I was still a college student. My plan had been to go to Law School and then right all the injustices of the world. I was going to be a women’s rights activist and lawyer and do Pro Bono work for battered and abused women at the women’s shelter…which was probably where I was going to end up by tomorrow night.
Not that my ex had ever beaten or abused me. When we met, he was a young father himself and his wife had just run off to live with her boyfriend, leaving him with two young children to raise and no idea of how to raise them. I had fallen for the kids as much as him—I’d always wanted to be a mom. I even loved babysitting when I was a kid. So it was easy for Amy and Chris Junior to find their way into my heart.
Next thing I knew, Christopher and I were married. At first he assured me that of course I could keep my dreams and go to Law School. But it seemed like one or both of the kids was always getting sick. And Christopher could never stay home with them because his job didn’t allow any kind of parental leave.
Little by little, I let the time slide by. I finished my Pre-Law classes, but I never quite got around to applying for Law School. Then Christopher had a chance at a promotion…but only if he finished his Master’s degree. So we agreed that I would work part time and watch the kids to help him get through.
Of course, after he got his Masters and his promotion, I would be able to go to Law School—that was the promise. But again, it never really happened. The kids were busy with school and extracurricular activities and Christopher was making really good money. He moved us into a bigger house and admitted that he’d always wanted a “traditional wife.”
“Why bother with all the work and worry of going to Law School when I can support us all on my salary?” he asked me. “I mean, come on, Lily—even if you did get a Law Degree, what would you do with it? And who would pick up the kids from school if you were working a nine-to-five job? Who would be their mom? They need you to be at home for them.”
It hurt at first, to give up my dream. But I had been slowly giving it up for years at that point—so maybe it didn’t hurt as much as it should have. I let myself believe that Christopher and the kids needed me at home and I concentrated on being the best mom and wife I could.
I was always the homeroom parent and I never missed a PTA meeting. I had a hot dinner on the table every night and I drove the kids to all their extracurricular activities. If I had a dollar for every soccer game, little league tournament, gymnastics class, and piano recital I attended while Christopher was busy working…well, I wouldn’t be living in my car.
The trouble began when Amy, the youngest, graduated high school and went off to college. Christopher started getting really distant and working even longer hours than usual. He was hardly ever home and when he was home, he barely said two words to me.
I tried to ignore my husband’s neglect, but it hurt. I’d worked so hard for years to make a loving home for him and the kids. Now that we were empty nesters, I’d been hoping for a long-deserved vacation. Maybe a cruise to the Bahamas or even just a trip down to Miami or Key West, where I had always wanted to go.
But instead of surprising me with a vacation or a cruise, my husband surprised me with something completely different—divorce papers.
