mbrace was awkward, hesitant. This

voice lacking any real wa

lpless despair. I looked around the cramped, shabby trailer, then at my son

crack. "You're my best friend. My only friend. Please, can we just stay with yo

ne she shared with her son, Cody. The one Ethan had paid for. The last thing she wante

er window across the way. The social pressure was immense. How could she, a successfu

like ash in her mouth. "Of course, you ca

and her forced reassurances. When we walked in, I ha

e full of fake amazement. "T

hen. And the art. On the wall was a large, abstract painting I recognized instantly. Ethan had shown it to m

ought it

thought of the lumpy, secondhand couch in my trailer. I thought of the nights I' d spent hunched over a calculator, trying to str

r. He was leeching off my genuine struggle, my lov

with a dismissive wave of her hand, but

e, at the diamond studs in her ears. All bought with

e. They wanted to take everything from me and

ot succeed.