Chapter 4: Family Ties, Family Lies

I won a hundred bucks at today’s math competition, gave her fifty.

"Mariah, promise me you’ll spend this on yourself."

"Live for yourself."

She stared at the money, eyes wide. I could see the gratitude, the hope, flicker across her face. Maybe, just maybe, she’d believe in herself a little more now.

On my way home, I bought two pounds of pork for the first time ever.

Big Mike gave me change, and I caught a whiff of that familiar smell of raw meat.

A nightmare memory flashed in my mind.

I stared at him in disbelief, but he just handed me the red plastic bag and moved on to other customers.

The hand that grabbed me back then wasn’t fat. Besides, we were all neighbors. Would they really go that far?

I watched his hands, the way they moved—quick, practiced, impersonal. I tried to match the memory to the man in front of me, but it didn’t fit. Still, a shiver ran down my spine. In a town like this, you never really knew what people were capable of.

Uncertain, I went home.

"Oh, Savannah! Here, let me carry that, I missed you so much!"

Henry Carter.

My uncle’s voice was too loud, too eager. He swept into the room like he owned the place, arms open wide. I stepped back, keeping the bag of pork between us like a shield.

My mom’s younger brother.

He wasn’t bad looking, made money off rich ladies playing cards, but he was lazy, a drinker, and a gambler. My mom had been bailing him out for years.

He always wore too much cologne, his shirts half-unbuttoned, hair slicked back like he thought he was George Clooney or something. But underneath the charm, there was something hungry in his eyes—a desperation I recognized all too well.

Last life, I actually liked when he visited. He always smiled, told my mom to treat me better—the only bit of warmth in our cold home.

But my mom didn’t like him, always scowling. "Lost at cards again? I have no money!"

"Sis, help me out, just this once. I’m not gambling, it’s a big investment this time. When I make it, I’ll take you and Savannah to the city, buy a big house!"

"Cut the crap!" My mom cursed as she cooked. "When have you not said that? Haven’t I given you enough? If you hadn’t kept asking for money, maybe I wouldn’t be divorced! You’ve got some nerve. Stay for dinner or get out!"

The kitchen smelled of frying onions and old regret. I watched the two of them circle each other, trading barbs and accusations. It was a dance I’d seen a hundred times, and I knew how it would end.

She had her back to him, but I saw his face change in the dim light—strange, cold, vicious. A chill ran down my spine.

But soon, he was all smiles again.

"Sis, I know it’s hard raising a daughter alone. I just asked, don’t be mad. No money, never mind, I’ll figure it out. Really, I just wanted to taste your cooking and see my niece! Savannah, almost time for the SATs, right?"

His voice was syrupy, but I could see the calculation in his eyes. He was always looking for an angle, always working the room. I kept my distance, wary.

I casually dodged his hand.

"Yep, Uncle."

"You’re getting prettier, like a star, got your parents’ good looks…"

"Mention that jerk again and see what happens!" My mom yelled, "Eat or get out!"

"Okay, okay, I won’t."

He backed off, hands raised in surrender. But I could feel his eyes lingering on me, weighing and measuring. I made a mental note to keep my door locked at night.

In the end, my mom still gave him three hundred bucks.

Then she sat alone on the old sofa, staring at her wedding photo with my dad, lost in thought—looking old, tired, but with a lost, girlish bewilderment in her eyes.

The apartment was quiet, the only sound the ticking of the old clock on the wall. I watched her, wondering if she saw the same things I did—the cracks in the wallpaper, the faded dreams. Maybe she was just as lost as I was.

"Marlene, do you hate me because I look like Dad?"

Dad was Samuel Carter.

"Say that again—"

"But is that my choice?" I took a deep breath. "You take and take, support your brother, and he abandoned us to protect his assets. Was any of that my decision?"

"You mean I was wrong!?" She glared, grabbing a feather duster.

"Yes, you were."

I said calmly.

"You were wrong to tie your whole life to men. Being someone’s ex-wife, someone’s sister—is that really more important than being yourself? More important than me trying so hard to be your daughter all these years?"

My voice shook, but I forced myself to keep going. I wanted her to hear me, really hear me, for the first time.

The forty bucks in my hand were damp with sweat.

I still couldn’t keep my composure.

I waited for her answer.

But she just sat in the dark, silent.

Until her phone rang, and she jumped up, instantly switching to a sweet voice. "Hey, Tommy! Yeah, I’m coming over. Is now a good time? Sure, come pick me up."

She rushed to fix her hair and put on lipstick, brushing past me with an impatient scowl. "Out of my way."

I watched her transform in seconds—sadness wiped away, replaced by a mask of confidence. I wanted to shake her, to make her see what she was doing. But the words stuck in my throat.

A big tear slid down my cheek.

Of course. Even with a second chance, it’s still like this.

"You’re hopeless."

I whispered it more to myself than to her. I wanted to believe things could change, but some people were just stuck in their own patterns. Still, it hurt.

She ignored me, didn’t even look at me, strutted out in heels.

"Marlene Carter! You’re really hopeless!" I yelled at the door, then slowly sank down and cried.

The apartment felt emptier than ever. I curled up on the floor, tears soaking my shirt. For a long time, I just let myself be sad—no more pretending, no more holding it in.