She kept repeating my name.
Theresa immediately insisted that things were not what they looked like. He accused Lucy of becoming unbearable after getting sick, demanding money, breaking things and even stealing jewelry.
I looked directly at the hummingbird pendant my mother was wearing around my neck.
“Like that?”
Teresa covered it with her hand.
Lucy told me that she had tried to sell the necklace to pay for a visit to the doctor, but Theresa had taken it.
Then I asked the question that no one wanted to answer.
“What disease does it have?”
Lucy touched her chest.
“Cancer.”
Eleven months.
For eleven months, I was sending money while my wife was sick.
Theresa argued that the treatment was expensive and that there were no guarantees. But wherever I looked, my money was obvious: new floors, a huge TV, leather furniture, granite countertops, the van outside, Brianna’s state-of-the-art phone.
Lucy had broken sandals and a six-year-old blouse.
“How much of my money did you use for treatment?”
Finally, Theresa admitted that they had paid for some visits.
Lucy corrected her.
Two.
Two visits in eleven months.
I helped Lucy get up and told her we were going to the hospital.
Teresa blocked the door.
He accused me of having disappeared for four years and of having returned to treat my own family as if we were criminals. I rolled up my sleeves and showed him the burn scars and years of cuts working in the store.
“I worked whole nights. I slept in a room with four other boys. I spent two Christmases completely just so that you didn’t lack absolutely anything here.”
“And we didn’t,” Teresa said.
I looked at Lucy.
“Yes, he did.”
Brianna blamed me for going. Theresa said Lucy had looked for everything.
Lucy was holding on to my shirt, waiting for me to explode.
Not me.
Instead, I put my hand in my pocket and took out the phone.
─────────────────────────────────────────────
Write CASH and I will continue.
(I know you’re curious about the next part, so please be patient and keep reading in the comments below.)
