Still, it was the third complaint in five weeks.
I stood there wondering whether everything I had sacrificed since my parents died still wasn’t enough.
I had given up college.
I was working two jobs.
I was raising a seven-year-old.
And somehow, I was still being treated as though I were the problem.
Temporary guardianship had been approved, but Denise and Howard wanted permanent guardianship.
Then they started talking openly about adoption.
Denise even began acting as though Vicky already belonged to her.
One afternoon, she arrived with an expensive coat and a pink jacket for my sister.
She smiled and called herself “Mommy Denise.”
Vicky didn’t like it.
She never called her that.
She barely spoke whenever Denise was around.
Then, one evening, Vicky told me something that made me uncomfortable.
