3
Jenny’s room was as cozy as ever.
Mine had been converted into a rec room.
The closet and bookshelves were gone.
The folding bed I’d slept on for years was
propped up in the corner, the mattress
stained.
In a dusty cardboard box, were the only
things I had left: my graduation photo
things I had left: my graduation photo,
diploma, and awards.
I burned all the photos in the house that
featured me.
Not that many.
Seventeen, including four group graduation
shots.
Dad called.
He was on the night shift and asked how
things were going with Mom.
I lied and said I was still freezing outside.
He was silent for a moment.
“Why don’t you find your own place for now?
Your mom is helping out at a friend’s house.
She probably won’t be back for a few days.”
“Okay.”
The next day, Jenny posted a video.
She was in her company cafeteria, eating
lunch.
Mom was there, too.
Dad, in his work uniform, was helping them
get drinks.
Mom teased Jenny about never growing up as
she picked out the shrimp from her own plate
to give to Jenny.
Dad beamed as he watched them.
His face was full of happiness.
A mean thought crossed my mind.
If they waited a few more days, I could die in
the house.
They could open the door and find my rotting
corpse.
That would certainly ruin their day.
But, just three days later, my parents came
home.
