beside him with his thumb in his mouth.
Behind them sat a black trash bag stuffed with clothes.
Vanessa shoved the bag toward me.
“I’m not cut out for this poverty stuff,” she said. “I want to live my life.”
Vanessa shoved the bag toward me.
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I stared at her. “Vanessa… these are your children.”
“They’re better off with you,” she said flatly. “You don’t have much else to do, anyway.”
Then she turned around, climbed into her car, and drove away.
Just like that.
Jeffrey tugged my sleeve. “
