Chapter 4 - EIGHT MONTHS IN THE SHADOWS
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“Elaine…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chatter rising from the floor below.
I stood completely still, looking at her. Really looking at her.
Her hair, which had been thick and dark when I left, was now thin, stark white, and pulled back into a tight, practical knot. Her shoulders were hunched forward, as if she were constantly trying to make herself smaller, less visible.
“How long, Mom?” I asked. My voice was low, but it cut through the quiet hall like a blade.
She looked down at her slippers, her hands pulling nervously at the hem of her apron.
“Elaine, please… it’s not what you think. Brandon has been having a hard time at the firm, and—”
“How long has this folder been growing, Mom?” I stepped closer, holding up the red cover. “How long have they been taking the money I sent for you?”
She closed her eyes, swallowing hard.
“Mom,” I said, softening my tone just enough to reach her. “Look at me.”
She slowly raised her head. Tears were already welling in the corners of her eyes, reflecting the dim light of the hallway lamp.
“I asked the wrong question,” I whispered, a sickening realization washing over me as I looked at the small, narrow room behind her—a room that now held only a tiny wooden desk and a single lamp, missing its bed entirely. “How long have you been sleeping downstairs beside the laundry room?”
Her lower lip trembled. She looked away, toward the staircase, terrified someone downstairs might hear us.
“About eight months,” she whispered.
The hallway seemed to tilt. I felt as if the floorboards were caving in beneath my boots.
“Eight months?” I repeated, the words burning my throat. “You slept on a cot next to a noisy washing machine in your own house for eight months?”
“Vanessa’s mother… Linda… she has trouble with her knees,” Mom murmured, as if reciting a script she had been forced to memorize. “Vanessa said Linda couldn't climb the stairs anymore when she came to stay. Vanessa said… she needed my room.”
“And you agreed?” I demanded.
May you like
Mom offered me the saddest, most broken smile I had ever seen on a human face.
“At first,” she said.
