Chapter 3

The living room went quiet for a few seconds.

"Alright, alright." David stood up. "Why are we even going back and forth about this? Just answer me one thing. You really want a divorce?"

"Yes."

"Fine." He nodded. "You want out, go ahead. The house is mine, the car is mine, and I earned every dollar in our savings. You're not getting a dime."

"I know."

"You know?" He let out a cold laugh. "You know how you're gonna survive out there? You don't have a job, you don't have any income, and you can't even figure out how to use a smartphone."

"I can learn." I looked at him. "I told you yesterday. I can learn."

"Learn?" He laughed, and it was an ugly sound. "You're fifty years old. What are you gonna learn? You think you're twenty?"

"So what if I'm fifty?" I held his gaze. "Does being fifty mean I can't learn anything new? Does it mean I should just sit around and wait to die?"

"You—"

I cut him off, "I spent thirty-three years with you.

"Thirty-three years, and besides housework, what did you ever let me learn? How many times did you take me out to dinner? How many times did you buy me something to wear? Do you even know what my favorite food is?"

He didn't answer.

"You don't," I said. "All you know is that I can cook, because you needed me to cook."

I took a sip of water and went on. "If we divorce, I don't want the house. I don't want the car. I don't want the savings, either."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want my freedom."

David stared at me for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out if I was serious.

"Fine," he said at last. "Then go. Get out right now."

"Dad!" Emily's voice rose in panic.

"Let her go." David waved his hand. "I want to see how long she lasts out there."

I didn't say a word. I turned around, walked back to the bedroom, and pulled out the suitcase I had packed the night before.

My suitcase was small. I had packed a few changes of clothes, my ID, my marriage certificate, and one thousand dollars in cash. That was the money I had scraped together over the years by cutting corners wherever I could.

It meant that over thirty-three years, I had averaged less than thirty dollars a year.

That was everything I had.

I wheeled the suitcase out of the bedroom and through the living room.

Emily caught up to me with tears brimming in her eyes. "Mom, where are you going?"

"I'm going to find a place to stay."

"But all by yourself—"

"Being alone sounds pretty good to me," I said. "All these years, I've been surrounded by people, but I never once stopped feeling lonely."

I looked at Emily and reached out to touch her face. "Emily, I'm not doing this out of spite. I just want to try, for once, to live for myself."

Emily broke down crying.

I said, "Don't blame me for this."

She shook her head, too choked up to speak.

I grabbed my suitcase and walked to the front door.

"Mom," Michael called from behind me. "Be safe out there."

I glanced back at him and smiled. "Michael, the manual for the washing machine is sitting right on top of it. If you can't figure it out, give it a read."

Michael just stood there, frozen.

I opened the door and walked out.

The moment the door shut behind me, I heard David's voice from inside. "She won't last three days!"

I didn't look back.

The elevator arrived, and I stepped inside with my suitcase. I was the only one in it.

I looked at the woman in the mirror. She was fifty years old, with graying hair and a face full of wrinkles, wearing a floral blouse that had been washed so many times it was fading.

Who was she?

She was Jennifer Shaw.

She was the woman who had been an unpaid maid for thirty-three years.

And starting today, she was done.

The elevator opened on the ground floor, and I stepped out.

The sunlight hit hard. I squinted and took a deep breath, and the air carried the sweet scent of honeysuckle. The bushes along the walkway had bloomed. I had lived here for over a decade, and I had never once noticed.

I pulled my suitcase behind me and walked toward the front gate.

The security guard, Larry, spotted me and did a double-take. "Jennifer, where you headed?"

"Just getting some fresh air."

"With a suitcase that big?"

"Yeah," I said with a small smile. "Just getting some fresh air."

I didn't have a destination, but I had a direction, and that direction was going forward.

My phone buzzed with a text from Emily: [Mom, where are you? You're scaring me.]

I typed back: [Emily, I'm fine. I just want you to know something. Don't be like me. Don't wait until you're fifty to figure it out.]

I hit send, turned off my phone, and kept walking along the road with my suitcase in tow.

I didn't know where I was going, but I knew one thing for certain. Anywhere was better than going back.

My phone vibrated once more. I didn't look. The sun felt good on my face.

The scent of honeysuckle drifted over me in waves, and I suddenly tried to remember the last time I had noticed it. I couldn't.

Maybe thirty-three years ago, the year I married David.

That was the year I didn't yet know that marrying someone could be the beginning of losing myself entirely.

It was okay, though. I was only fifty, and there was still time.

I tightened my grip on the suitcase handle and picked up my pace.

Behind me, a figure stood at the neighborhood gate for a long time.

It was Emily.

She watched me grow smaller in the distance, then pulled out her phone and called her husband.

"Babe," she said, and her voice trembled slightly, "I'm suddenly really scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared that one day, I'll turn into my mom."