“I wasn’t fine,” I said. “I was working three jobs. I slept five hours a night for three years. I drove a car with no heat. I paid for my own bridesmaid dress out of café tips.” My voice was shaking. “I wasn’t
fine. I just never asked you for anything. Because I learned a long time ago that in this family, there’s one kind of girl who needs things and one kind who doesn’t.”Support Causes
Mom’s face crumpled.
“I was fine because I had to be,” I said. “That’s not the same thing.”
Chapter Eleven: The Part That Counts
We didn’t eat the roast. Or the pie.
Brittany and I left about an hour later. Mom was crying at the kitchen sink. Dad walked us out to the car. He stood in the driveway next to his black Ram with his hands in his pockets.
