Chapter 3

I locked the door.

Blood slipped between my fingers and dripped into the white sink basin.

I turned on the tap and watched the red rinse away.

Marcus knocked on the door from the other side.

"Mom, what are you hiding in there? Don't think you can just disappear and get out of this!"

"Hurry up! I need to shower! I swear, you are unreal!"

I looked at myself in the mirror. There was still blood at the corner of my mouth.

Tears and water ran down my face together. I wiped away the blood.

They can't know. They can't know I'm dying.

If they knew, I'd just become a heavier burden to carry. I wouldn't even be allowed to die in peace.

I took the folded papers from under my pillow — the diagnosis — and slipped them inside an old book on the shelf. One of the fairy tale books Marcus had loved as a little boy. He hadn't touched it in fifteen years.

Then I started packing.

The inexpensive jewelry. The pair of gold earrings from our wedding day.

I put them all in a bag.

Tomorrow I'd sell them. The money would go to a children's charity — or I'd simply throw it all away.

Either way, I wasn't leaving a single cent to these two.

I suppose Gary and Marcus finally decided I was too much trouble to push around, because on Friday night, Marcus came home with a girl.

"Mom, this is Sophie. My girlfriend."

He was wearing a proud little grin.

Sophie looked nervous and gave me a polite smile.

Before I could react, Marcus had already steered her to the couch, then leaned down and murmured in my ear:

"Mom, this is her first time here. Don't embarrass me."

"Make the braised fish, the sweet and sour ribs — all your good stuff."

"I want to impress her."

He knew I'd been sick for days. That I could barely stand up straight.

But for his pride, for the image he wanted to project, he didn't care what it cost me.

"I'm not feeling well. Just order in tonight."

I leaned against the wall, too weak to stand on my own.

Marcus's face hardened. He dropped his voice to a tight, controlled hiss.

"Mom. Can you read the room?"

"You're pulling this right now? On purpose?"

"I'm asking you. Just this once. Please."

"Don't make me look bad in front of Sophie."

I looked at his face, and despite everything, something in me softened.

Maybe that's the curse of being a mother. Still crawling back, even at the edge of everything.

I forced myself through the pain to the grocery store. The smell of raw fish hit me so hard I nearly vomited on the spot.

Back in the kitchen, I worked through the haze. My vision kept blurring. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the knife.

The blade slipped and caught my left index finger. Blood welled up immediately.

It dripped onto the cutting board and mixed with the fish.

Gary walked in just then to grab a beer from the fridge. He glanced at my bleeding hand without stopping.

"How can you be so careless?"

"Run it under water. And don't get blood in the food. That's disgusting."

I put on a bandage and kept cooking.

Eventually, the meal was done.

I carried a pot of fish soup out to the table.

My stomach seized without warning. My vision went black at the edges. My knees buckled.

The pot slipped from my hands and hit the floor with a crash.

Scalding soup flooded across the tiles, splashing up onto Sophie's dress.

She screamed and jumped back from the table.

The whole room smelled like fish.

Marcus leapt up and shoved me hard.

"Mom! What is wrong with you? You did that on purpose!"

The push sent me stumbling backward into the sideboard. Pain cracked through my lower back. But I had nothing left — I could only slump against it, gasping.

"If you didn't want to cook, you didn't have to! Who are you trying to gross out?"

Marcus shouted, his eyes red.

Sophie looked at my face — whatever color had drained from it — and seemed to hesitate. She touched Marcus's arm.

"She didn't mean to — I think she just lost her grip—"

"Lost her grip! She's just mad I brought you home!"

Gary stepped in from the side.

He tossed a pack of tissues to Sophie for her dress and didn't look at me once.

"I spoiled her rotten. Gets worse every year. Just ignore her."

Father and son flanked Sophie on either side, sheltering her from the drama.

"Come on, Sophie. Dinner's ruined. Let's go out."

Marcus grabbed his keys, and without a backward glance, walked out the door with his girlfriend and his father.

The door slammed shut. The noise went with them.

The apartment was quiet now, except for the mess on the floor. The overturned pot. The fish head lying in the spilled soup.

I slid down slowly until I was sitting on the floor beside it, in that spreading puddle going cold.

I picked up a piece of fish — dusty, soaked — and put it in my mouth.

The piece they always fought over.

I chewed it and tasted nothing.

Only bitterness. And that thick, clinging, nauseating smell.

So this was the family I had given my life to.

This was the love I had nearly destroyed myself to protect.