in four years.
And what had I received?
A sister calling me a drama queen.
A mother saying I wasn’t family.
A group chat full of laughing emojis.
I asked Patricia to send Diane formal written notice that the payments had ended and she needed to make other arrangements.
Professional.
Clear.
Final.
I signed it.
She sent it.
That night, Colleen asked how I felt.
Like I had put down something impossibly heavy and my arms still hadn’t figured out what to do without it.
She raised her glass.
They
