Shattered Glass and Sunlit Paths Chapter 2

The summer after high school graduation, my dad vanished.

He took every dime the family had saved and drove south, starting a new life with his mistress.

My mom tried to throw herself out a window several times; I had to drag her back inside. She beat me with her fists, screaming and crying that it was all my fault.

She blamed me for everything. If I had been more obedient, if I had been more successful...

Their marriage wouldn't have ended.

It was like I was the villain in a movie, the one who broke up the star-crossed lovers.

My grandparents took over caring for my broken mother, and I dragged my suitcase alone onto a Greyhound bus, heading north for college.

There was no money for tuition or housing. Every spare moment I had was spent working.

I got a job tutoring a middle school kid. One night, the family asked me to stay for dinner.

Watching the three of them at the table, talking and laughing, I had to force the delicious food down my throat past the bitterness.

I felt like a sewer rat, spying on other people's happiness.

When I went home for winter break my freshman year, I discovered my dad had been back for six months.

He’d developed a serious gambling problem down south, been swindled out of all his money by the mistress, and only made it back home after a sympathetic old friend gave him a ride.

My mom told me this as if it were nothing, completely ignoring the way my face was turning purple with rage.

"So, you’re just going to take this piece of trash back? He didn't want you! He only came back because he had nowhere else to go!"

"How dare you talk about your father like that? He’s turning over a new leaf! He made a mistake! Not like you, still standing there with your cold, heartless attitude."

She felt that as long as he came home, it meant he still loved her.

She even said, "All men are like this. Your father isn't so bad compared to some. The guy you find will probably be worse."

"Children don't stay forever. Your father is the only one who will be with me until the end."

I never asked her why she never sent me money.

She never asked me how I was paying for college.

It was like we both just accepted it as the natural order of things.

I accepted that she would never give me money.

She accepted that I was an adult now, and responsible for myself.

After I went back to school, I rarely visited.

My life was consumed by part-time jobs and studying. There was no time for the fun, carefree college experience I was supposed to be having.

When I went back for Thanksgiving senior year, she accused me of being cold-blooded in front of all the relatives.

"He gets out into the world and completely forgets his parents. Doesn't even call. Then he comes back here and just eats, eats, eats. He’s like a bill collector coming to collect a debt."

My aunts and cousins chimed in. "You’re an adult now, you need to grow up. Family comes first. Your parents worked hard to raise you; you need to show some gratitude."

I listened to their accusations in silence, the rare holiday break already ruined.

A fleeting, regretful thought crossed my mind: I should have stayed at school and worked the holiday shift. Triple pay.

After graduation, I stayed up north, found a job, worked myself to the bone, pulling shifts until 2 AM, hoping to get hired permanently.

Apartments near the city were too expensive. To save money, I rented a damp garden-level studio.

Sleeping in that cold, dark room, I made a silent vow to work even harder, to someday have a real home of my own in this city.

Not long after, my mother called. She was beat around the bush, asking about my salary, saying she wanted to come visit.

Under my repeated questioning, she finally admitted the truth.

Dad was gambling again. He’d lost all the money and came home drunk and beat her.

"My sweet daughter, send your mother some money. I think my arm is broken. The pain is so bad I can't even make dinner."