Chapter 4

The way Edward and I met was a rescue story, and an old, tired one at that.

I was eighteen and had just gotten into a top university.

While my classmates and teachers were congratulating me, my dad lit a cigarette as I filled out my enrollment forms and calmly called me out of my room.

"Julia, there's something I want to discuss with you. Grace and I have talked it over, and we're getting married at city hall in a few days."

Grace was the girlfriend my dad had found after he and my mom divorced.

I didn't like her, and I didn't dislike her.

So I said, calmly, "If you're happy, that's fine."

What he said next dropped me into a hole.

"Grace is pregnant. You know your dad doesn't have much. I bring home barely a thousand dollars a month.

"So Grace says she'll have the baby, but only if I stop supporting you completely. Your mother has money. Go ask her for your college expenses."

My hands closed into fists at his words.

I couldn't hold back the tears.

I still tried. "My college isn't expensive. It's no more than five thousand dollars a semester. My first semester only cost me three thousand. Could you help me out for now? I could take out student loans for the rest."

By the end, I was begging.

My dad calmly ground his cigarette out in the ashtray with his rough fingers.

"Julia, the law says I'm obligated to raise you until you're eighteen. That's all."

Then he went back into his room and slammed the door.

The slam rang through the empty house for a long time, and I don't know how long I stood there crying without a sound.

The next day, I did what my dad told me.

I texted my mom for money.

I wrote it like a report to a boss, going over every word again and again, before I finally got up the nerve to send it.

Her reply was this.

Mom: [Julia, I hope you understand that the law is there to be followed, not broken. When I divorced your father, we agreed that he would raise you, and I would raise your sister.

Mom: [Your father is useless, and you're eighteen now, which makes you an adult. Don't turn out like him, running to me every time you need money. Everything I have is your sister's. It has nothing to do with you.]

I hid in my room and cried over that message for a long time.

It was the divorce all over again. Both of them had fought for my sister. They'd gotten into a fistfight at the courthouse over her. Neither of them wanted me.

In the end, my mom gave up her claim to the house my dad and I still lived in so she could win custody of my sister.

I never understood it.

The same way I couldn't understand it back then. We'd come out of the same mother.

So why did my sister get all of their love, and nobody would take me, even for free?

I cried until the pillow was soaked, and the next day, exactly as my parents wanted, I picked up my bag and went to the city where my college was to find work.

To save money, I took the cheapest bus I could find.

The trip took two days and two nights.

I cried the whole way. I cried at how cold my parents were, and I cried because I couldn't see any college in my future, or any future at all.

While I was sobbing hard enough to shake, I got to talking with a man in his forties.

He was kind.

He shared his sandwiches and his beef jerky with me.

He told me he had a daughter my age who had also gotten into a good school, and that he was heading out to work to earn her tuition.

His face was so full of fatherly warmth that I envied his daughter, and I trusted him.

When he told me he worked at a factory and could get me a job there paying 1,700 dollars a month, I believed him.

I never expected that the same night, he'd take me into a dark, empty alley.

He slapped me until I lost count, put his hands everywhere on my body, and did every filthy thing to me he could think of.

Then he took my bag, took every dollar I had, and walked away.

The moon was so bright that night it hurt my eyes.

Afterward, I went to the police station and reported it.

Besides the money, I'd lost every document I owned, including my college admission letter.

That night, I was in such a dark place, I even thought about ending it all.

The officer looked into my dull, lifeless eyes.

"You should count yourself lucky, kid. It's a lot safer out there than it used to be."

I looked back at her with nothing but grief.

My cheek still stung from the slap.

I borrowed the police station's phone and called my dad.

When he heard what had happened, all he said was, "Isn't your mother in that city? Go find your mother."

Then he hung up.

My fingers shook on the receiver.

But the tears standing in my eyes didn't fall.

I turned to the officer and said, calmly, "Could you lend me thirty dollars? I want to go find my mom."

She looked at my unfocused eyes.

The officer beside her kept shooting her looks, and she took thirty dollars out of her pocket anyway and handed it to me.

I took the bus to my mom's mansion.

I didn't cry the whole way.

My head was one long hum.

I got off the bus and walked the rest of the way.

At the gate, I could already hear music drifting out.

A banner hung across the entrance. [Congratulations to our little princess, Emily Evans, on getting into college!]

Through the iron gate, I saw my sister standing in front of an enormous cake.

She wore a pretty tiara and a pretty princess dress.

The hall behind her was full of young men and women, all of them dressed beautifully.

Her classmates, maybe, or my mom's business contacts.

The tears I'd held in all night came down all at once.

They tasted bitter and mixed with the sting at the corner of my mouth.

It hurt in my throat, and it hurt hard enough to make me shake.

I gripped the iron bars of the gate so hard that the rain-chipped paint broke my skin.

I was a clown at the window, pathetic, watching everything inside.

Right when I thought I had cried myself dry, a car that looked expensive from fifty feet away pulled up in front of me.

After a moment, a gentleman stepped out of the car, dressed sharp and looking like he just walked out of a magazine.

Maybe it was out of spite, or maybe I was just that bitter.

Eyes full of tears, I marched straight up to him.

"Excuse me. Sorry to bother you. On the strength of this face, could I borrow 1,500 dollars from you? No. Three thousand.

"You can take a picture of me, then go find the woman who owns this house and tell her to pay you back. She will."

The man studied my face carefully.

He just stood there, silent.

He didn't say a single word.

I'd known this was how it would go, and my back started to shake.

Choking on tears, I got out, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I bothered you."

Then I turned to leave.

And as I turned, the man stopped me.

"Give me your phone. I'll Venmo you."

I flinched.

I was so stunned that I squatted down right there and cried.

I was crying my heart out, completely falling apart.

Through the tears, I could see the line of his jaw.

"I don't have a phone. My phone was stolen."

The man looked down and thought for a moment.

Then he took out his own phone and made a call.

"Wait here. I'll have someone bring you cash."

I stared at him.

Then he turned and went into the house.

I watched his back as he walked slowly into the crowd that belonged to my mom and my sister.

Ten minutes later, someone he'd sent put three thousand dollars in my hand.

I held that three thousand dollars.

For the first time, what I felt wasn't hurt. It was envy.

Envy of my sister.

And for the first time, hate.

I hate my mom.

But it was also the first time I wanted something from my poor, ugly life.

I wanted that man.

I was still deep in the memory when a knock came at the door.

"Mrs. Carter, Mr. Carter called. He won't be home for dinner."

I ran my fingers over the divorce agreement in my drawer, said "Mm," and shut it. Then I went into the bathroom to do my makeup and changed into something for going out.

This was the seventh year of my marriage to Edward.

I never thought it would end in a divorce.