I watched storefronts blur past the window.
“I’m tired.”
“Tired of what?”
I almost laughed.
How could she ask?
“Tired of being useful only when I’m cooking, cleaning, babysitting, or paying.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“No.”
I looked at my reflection in the glass.
For the first time in years, the woman staring back at me looked familiar.
“I think I’m finally being accurate.”
She inhaled sharply.
“Where exactly are you planning to sleep?”
“I’ll find somewhere.”
“Well, understand something. If you don’t come back tonight and apologize, Grant is changing the locks.”
I closed my eyes.
“Tell him to save himself the trouble.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not coming home.”
Her voice dropped.
“Mom.”
“I mean it.”
Then Grant grabbed the phone.
