Chapter 3
During my two years at community college, I barely slept—classes during the day, jobs at night.
I worked shifts at the dining hall, stocked shelves at the supermarket, tutored kids after school, and passed out flyers on street corners.
At one point, I had four jobs at once, and I lost twenty pounds.
"You look pale. Are you anemic?" my roommate said one day, frowning.
"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile.
I applied to transfer to a four-year college, studying late into the night after work.
I got in on my own, no help, no handouts, and finished my bachelor's degree in two more years.
I was twenty-three when I graduated, proud of myself for making it this far.
In those four years, I went back to that apartment only twice.
The first time was during the summer break of my freshman year.
When I walked in, I found my old storage closet had been turned into Sophie's walk-in closet, stuffed with clothes and bags she'd shipped back from abroad.
"You can sleep on the couch," Mary said, like it was a favor.
I slept on the cold living room couch that night.
At two in the morning, Mary stumbled out to use the bathroom, glancing at me.
"Seriously, Sarah, can't you even grab yourself a blanket?" she muttered.
But she didn't bother to get one for me.
I left first thing the next morning.
The second time was when my grandmother, Richard's mom, passed away.
She was the one who'd raised me until I was six.
I took a four-hour bus ride to get there, my heart heavy.
When I reached the door, Mary was standing on the porch.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped.
"Grandma's gone. I'm here to say goodbye," I said, my voice steady.
However, she blocked the door, letting out a mocking laugh. "Your grandma? How many years have you gone without talking to her? What right do you have to show up now?"
"She's my grandma," I said, my voice firm.
Mary retorted, "I'm not even sure you're her real granddaughter.
"For the past ten years, I've been the one taking care of her. Where were you?"
I heard crying from inside, the sound of relatives mourning.
I stared at Mary, who stood in the doorway, arms crossed, making it clear she had no intention of letting me through.
"Move," I said, my voice cold and steady.
"This is my home," she said.
I shoved her aside, and she stumbled back a step.
"H-How dare you push me?" Mary screeched, glaring at me.
Then, she yelled, "Richard! See what kind of daughter you raised!"
Richard came out, looking older than I'd ever seen him.
Half his hair was gray, deep wrinkles etched into his face.
He stared at me, murmuring, "Sarah..."
"Dad, I'm here to say goodbye to Grandma," I said.
"You—" Richard began.
Mary yelled from behind, "She pushed me! You saw that, didn't you? She pushed me!"
Richard looked at me, then at Mary.
"Sarah, how could you push Mary..." he finally said, his voice weak.
I said nothing, pushing past him to go inside.
I stood before grandmother's casket and bowed deeply three times.
The relatives stared at me, whispering among themselves.
"Is that Richard's daughter? Haven't seen her in years."
"Heard she never comes home."
"Mary's been taking care of the old lady every day, and she shows up out of the blue—some granddaughter."
Mary stood nearby, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, putting on a show. "I don't blame her. She has her own life. Her grandma talked about her all the time, and I kept telling her to come visit.
With a sigh, she added, "I guess I just didn't do enough."
The relatives' stares turned colder, like I was the one in the wrong.
I stood in front of the casket, silent, letting their whispers wash over me.
That night, Richard's elder brother, Michael Grant, pulled me aside, his voice gentle. "Sarah, your dad's had it hard these years. Cut him some slack, come home more often."
"Uncle Michael," I said, turning to him.
"Yeah?" he replied.
"Did Mary take Grandma to the doctor even once in her last six months?" I asked.
Michael froze for a moment.
"Who took care of Grandma those last six months?" I pressed.
He fell silent, and I knew the answer: a cheap home health aide, five hundred dollars a month.
Mary took care of Grandma? She had spent her days playing poker with her friends.
That was the last time I set foot in that apartment.
*****
On my twenty-second birthday, Mary called me, not to wish me happy birthday, but to ask for money.
"Sophie switched schools abroad and needs some extra cash. Your dad's tight on money, and you have a job now. You should help out the family," she said, her tone demanding.
"How much?" I asked, my voice flat.
"Six thousand dollars," she said.
"Mary," I said, my voice steady.
"Yeah?"
I demanded, "You changed my college applications, derailed my future. You never paid a cent of my tuition. I worked jobs to put myself through school.
"And now you want me to hand over six thousand dollars for Sophie's tuition?"
There was a long silence on the other end, then a huff. "Sarah, why do you always hold a grudge? Everything I did was for your own good—"
I interrupted, "For my own good? Changing my top-tier university application to a community college was for my own good?
Selling Mom's necklace to send Sophie abroad was for my own good?"
"You—" Mary started, but I cut her off.
"I'm not giving you a single cent. And don't ever contact me again," I said, my voice cold and unwavering.
With that, I hung up.
That day, I changed my phone number, packed up my things, and moved to a new apartment, far away from everything that reminded me of that family.
But the Christmas package still arrived every December 23rd, right on time.
Richard always found my address, no matter how many times I moved.
I never asked how and didn't want to know.
I just grabbed it and tossed it away.