“What do you mean you don’t know how long?” Frank’s voice booms from the kitchen.

“It’s her home, too. She can stay here for as long as she wants,” my mom says.

“Fuck that. She’s a freeloader, that’s what she is. She can start paying rent if she’s staying much longer. Isn’t she married to some rich guy anyway?”

“No, Frank. She said it’s all a big lie. Tabloids print fake stories all the time—that’s what you always say. And keep it down. She might hear,” my mom says in hushed tones.

I snort as I stuff my clothes into my luggage. It's a little late to keep their fights a secret from me. I’ve only been living here for two weeks, and I must’ve heard, like, twenty arguments between my mom and her long-term, live-in, perennially unemployed boyfriend, Frank.

And, to be honest, I share Frank’s sentiments. I don’t want to be here either, but beggars can’t be choosers.

I know I don’t have to do it and I know I’m being dumb. But I want to do everything I can to make it up to Ethan.

It’s the most idiotic plan I’ve ever come up with, but hey, I came up with it on the night my cover was blown and I lost everything. My world was falling apart and that was the only plan I could think of, so give me a break.

My biggest mistake, I guess, is putting it down in writing. Now I have no choice but to follow through.

I can’t get over how dumb it is, though, to scrounge up money so I can pay back all the salary that Ethan has ever paid me. Luckily, I only worked as his personal assistant for a few months and he hasn’t paid me for being his fake wife.

If I work hard and live frugally, I should be able to pay him in full in a year. It occurred to me that I could take some cash advance from my credit card and pay him that way, but that would be yet another bad decision, on top of the incredible number of bad decisions I’ve already made.

Look at me, trying to fix my problems with money, when I don’t have any myself. I’d make a good rich person.

I smile wryly to myself, appreciating the irony in my own predicament.

To think that only a couple of weeks ago I dared to hope that I’d live happily ever after with Ethan and Penny in their luxury apartment, driving around town in their shiny convertible, eating the meals meticulously prepared by their personal chef.

I close the luggage, but it won’t zip up. As I sit on top of it to compress the contents, I hear voices from the kitchen.

My mom and Frank are being quiet and loud at the same time. You know how people sound when they’re whispering and speaking in low tones, but shouting at the same time? Yeah, that’s what they sound like.

I hate that my mom’s life seems like such a struggle, but I’m pleasantly surprised to hear her standing up for me. I hope that means she’s been standing up for herself, too.

When my dad left, the Mom I knew and loved went away, too.

She was always sleeping in her room. After losing the business, she hadn’t been working at all. And after losing her husband, she hadn’t even bothered to get up.

Whenever I went into her room to give her some food, I’d see a new pile of tissues scattered all over the floor, drying off after being soaked with her tears.

I was an afterthought to her.

I was old enough to feed myself and bathe myself. I didn’t even need her to help me with my studies anymore. Even if she neglected me, I wouldn’t die, and I wouldn’t leave her either.

Like a pet rock, I could take care of myself. Hell, I could even help keep her alive. I could buy food with her credit cards, and I kept doing that until we had maxed out all her cards.

When we had about fifty dollars left to spend on her last card, I begged her to find work. Any work.

I would’ve done it myself, but every single fast food restaurant and retail store I’d approached had told me I was too young.

We were on the verge of ending up on the streets. We had already received multiple collection notices from the water department, as well as the gas and electricity companies.

I had to type up a resumé for my mom and print it out myself at the library in school. I remember going to the mall and giving out the copies to whoever would take them.

She finally got an interview, which I made her go to. Despite her lack of enthusiasm, she got the job. And she eventually started going to work on her own, without me prodding her.

I thought things were finally starting to get better. I thought she’d get back on her feet and go back to being an adult soon.

Boy, was I wrong.

You know why she got the job, even though she’d half-assed the interview? Because the manager, Frank, wanted to sleep with her.

Depressed, sad, and angry, Mom wasn’t exactly a good judge of character. And she eagerly ate up all the attention Frank was showering her with.

To be fair to Mom, Frank was sweet in the beginning. Even I thought she was finally getting her life back together, with the new job and the new attentive boyfriend.

Then Frank got his hooks all the way into her and showed his true colors. He started to become angry, irrational, and demanding.

I watched helplessly as he took over our home and turned Mom into a different person.

Things got even worse when he lost his job. He and his son moved into our home, and I had to walk on eggshells all the time to avoid setting off those two.

Frank was overly strict with me, telling me he was berating me for my own good. Then he’d turn around, see his son doing the exact same thing, and let him be. “Boys will be boys,” he used to say.

Brad, Frank’s son, is now a police officer. A profession where you’re always right and you hold a lot of power over almost everybody else. I can see why Brad would want that job, but I have no idea why anyone would give it to him.

So, in summary, I grew up with a dad who left me, a step-dad who hated my existence, and a megalomaniacal step-brother who could do anything he liked.

No wonder I used to think every man was a user who’d chew you up and spit you out.

I thought I’d go out and stand on my own two feet. I’d never depend on any man. I’d make a name for myself, and make some money, too.

Then I’d find some way to get Mom out of this house and away from Frank. It’d be just the two of us against the world.

But I hit a big snag as soon as I started carrying out the first part of my plan. Just when I thought I’d turn the game on men and use them before they could use me, I met a specimen so different from the rest that he might as well be his own species.

Too bad I treated him like I’d treat the rest of them. Now I’ll never even see him again, except for when he inevitably appears on a magazine or on TV. And I only have myself to blame.

I get up and pull the luggage upright. It’s time for me to move on.

I’ve obviously overstayed my welcome here. Maybe one day I’ll manage to persuade Mom to kick Frank to the curb, but it doesn’t seem like today’s the day. My own life is in tatters, so who am I to tell her what to do with hers?

I’ll move to a new city and start a new life. I’ll channel all my energy into my work. Everything else will follow, hopefully.

I’ll put Ethan and the whole fake wedding thing behind me. I expect to receive the divorce papers any day now. Mom can forward it to me by mail when they get here.

It sucks that chapter of my life had to end, even though I was hoping it would last forever.

Nevertheless, I’m glad it happened. At least now I know what kind of a man I’ll be looking for. Now I know decent men exist, and I won’t settle for anyone who doesn’t treat me as well as Ethan did.

I have an interview to attend, so that’s all I should be thinking about. I’ve been preparing myself for all the questions they could possibly ask. This is my chance at breaking into serious journalism, and I’m not going to let it go to waste.

Pulling out the handle of the luggage, I drag it out of my bedroom.

The squeaky wheel reminds me of Ethan’s apartment, but again, I push out that thought out of my mind. I’ve done enough crying to last me a lifetime.

No more sad thoughts about Ethan. No more tears.

“Mom,” I yell out so I can be heard over their arguing. I listen as the hushed voices in the kitchen stop and add, “I’m leaving now, okay?”

“What?” Mom asks. I hear her footsteps approach in haste, and soon I see her walking down the hallway. She looks disheveled. Her hair is a mess, her eye bags are massive, and her shirt has yellow stains on it. She used to look pretty, but she hasn’t been putting any effort into her appearance for a long time. She sees me standing with my luggage by the door and says, “You didn’t tell me you were leaving today.” In a lower voice, she asks, “Is this about Frank? I’m sorry about that, honey. Don’t pay any attention to him. You can stay for as long as you want.”

“No, Mom. I have an interview and I just found out late last night.”

“Oh, that’s great news.” Mom tucks my hair behind my ear and smiles, even though her eyes are sad. “I was just getting used to having you around again. I’m going to miss you.”

“Yeah, I know. Call me any time,” I say, returning her smile. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

“Where’s this interview? Back in San Francisco?”

“No, Mom. It’s actually in Chicago.”

“Oh, that’s…far,” she says with obvious disappointment. “I thought I could start visiting you more if you were in San Francisco, but Chicago… That’s on the other side of the country.”

“Yeah. It’s a really good opportunity. It’s a newspaper called the Illinois Enquirer. They’re focusing on their online version so they’re hiring younger people. I’m really excited about this.”

“I’m happy for you, honey. You’re flying out tonight?”

“Yeah. I should get going. I already called a cab.”

“I wish you’d stay longer,” Mom says as she takes the handle of my luggage and pulls it toward the door.

“Well, they’re only paying for my hotel for two nights. If everything goes well, they’ll help me find an apartment to rent. If not, then I’ll be back here.”

“Oh, no, honey. I’m sure you’ll get the job. They’d be crazy not to take you. You work so hard.”

Just as we reach the door, there’s knocking from the other side.

“You’re expecting someone?” I ask Mom.

“No. It’s probably just the Jehovah’s Witnesses, or the next-door neighbor complaining about the tree branch that’s apparently intruding into his property,” Mom says with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Or maybe it’s the taxi driver,” I say as I grab the door handle and pull.

Behind the door is the last person I’d expect to see.

My jaw drops and my lips part, although no words come out of my mouth. My brain is still too busy trying to grasp what’s happening.

“We already have the latest issue of Watchtower, and we have already heard the good news about Jesus Christ,” Mom says with a polite smile when she sees a man clad in a suit on our doorstep.

I don’t know how she could mistake him for a Jehovah’s Witness.

Firstly, his suit fits him too well for it not to be designer and outrageously expensive. Secondly, the flashy black convertible parked in front of our house can’t possibly belong to an ascetic door-to-door evangelist.

“Mom, he’s not… Uh, he’s not a…” I try to find the right words to say to make things less awkward, as the man stares at us with confusion on his face. In the end, I simply say, “I know him.”

“Oh.” Mom flicks her gaze between him and me. She smiles and says to the man, “You look familiar.”

“He's, uh, sometimes he's on TV.”

“I see. Well, I’ll let you two talk, then. I’ll be inside. Let me give you one last hug before you leave, honey.”

“Okay, Mom.”

With that, she leaves me alone at the door to deal with the handsome stranger.

I have so many questions to ask him, so many things I want to say to him. I thought I’d put everything down on the letter I left him, but my mind kept coming up with more.

I just never thought I’d get the opportunity to even talk to him again.

“What are you doing here?” I finally ask.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

That voice. I thought I was never going to hear it ever again.

And it's just like Ethan to answer my question with another question.