My father had cheated one too many times.
And my mother couldn’t handle it anymore.
And since I was the troubled kid who liked to get into fights.
The one who took care of everything with my fists.
I went with Mom.
Because I fixed things.
Because I didn’t want her to be alone.
Because in a divorce, kids are too often the ones who get ripped in two directions without any say in the situation.
And because my father said that’s where I was going. Period.
“It’s going to be fine,” I said to my brother, not realizing I was lying to him.
“You promised.” He grabbed my elbow and pulled me back. “You said you’d always protect me.”
“And I always will.” I didn’t allow myself to cry. It would be fine. People got divorced all the time.
I grabbed my Ray-Bans and put them on so he wouldn’t see the pain in my eyes.
Mom drove us away from the city, away from the glitz and glamour of my dad’s high-powered deals, away from towering glass-and-steel skyscrapers, and the bright lights and nonstop bustle. As the landscape changed around us, Mom alternated between hitting the steering wheel and sobbing into the tissues I kept handing her.
Her striking Italian features, pitch-black hair, and blue eyes made me think she was the prettiest woman in the world. With his light skin and medium-brown hair, my dad was the light to her dark on the surface, but on the inside he was just . . . arrogant.
They had been a beautiful couple.
But outward beauty doesn’t keep a family together, doesn’t keep all the cracks and breaks at bay. Dad’s cruelty broke our family. And Julian and I were caught in the middle.
“Mom.” I handed her another tissue. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she croaked. “It’s going to be fine, Bridge, I promise. I’ll take care of us.”
“I know, Mom.” But I didn’t; she’d never worked a day in her life.
And it settled like a stone in my stomach. I knew Dad gave her a settlement after the divorce, but I also sadly knew there was a prenuptial agreement.
I was afraid to ask what that meant for us.
I decided not to think about it until an hour later when my mom pulled up to a small apartment complex that looked like it had been built in the fifties. The red brick wasn’t exactly crumbling, but to say it had seen better days was an understatement. White stains ran from the corners of the single-paned windows, and the brown railing on the staircase to the upper units sagged in the middle. Located below the steps were two apartment doors that were disturbingly close to one another, separated only by a pair of ragged lawn chairs. The window air conditioner in one of the upper apartments dripped steadily, just missing a thirsty patch of wilting grass but managing to erode the concrete at the base of the steps.
“Uhhh, Mom?” I frowned as people stared at us and our car. “What’s going on? Are we dropping something off for donations or—”
“Our apartment”—she jerked her head to the old brick building—“is the first floor on the right. It’s all they had.”
Relief and understanding hit me all at once. “Ohhh, until we can find a place?”
She turned off the car, bracing the steering wheel with both hands. “Do you know what a prenuptial agreement is?”
“I go to private school. I could probably write a legal document,” I said with heavy sarcasm. “Why?”
“I signed one that says I get no spousal support, only child support. We have enough to get by, Bridge. We’ll sell the car and use everything he gives us to invest, and I’ll get a job. We aren’t destitute. We just can’t afford things like—”
“Private school,” I finished for her, suddenly wondering why my dad didn’t care enough to make sure I had the life we were used to living if he was worth so much money. “Okay.” My mind worked fast, slow, then fast again as I thought about me going to Mom, and Julian going to Dad. “Mom . . .”
She didn’t look at me.
She kept her eyes on the steering wheel.
“Mom.” I injected a bit of urgency as I said it again. “When do we get to see Julian?”
Silence.
“MOM!” I didn’t mean to raise my voice, I didn’t mean for her to flinch.
And I didn’t mean to cause more tears.
“I didn’t realize what I was signing.” She shook her head. “I loved him. I thought we were forever, Bridge, you have to know that, and I had no money to fight him, nothing . . .” She sobbed into her tissue. “No partial custody, Bridge. I get you, he gets Julian.”
“But—” My body swayed as my heart leaped to my throat, making it hard to breathe. “But I promised him! I promised him, Mom!”
“You can email him, and hopefully in the future, when things settle, you can visit.”