Helen pushed a pair of travel bags toward the entryway and swung the door wide open.
“You heard what he said,” she told me.
My only memory from that moment is Mia sobbing, my fingers trembling, the freezing wind, and the loud sound of the door shutting at my back.
I spent the very last of my funds to grab the milk powder and the least expensive feminine products I could find. I nearly dialed a former work buddy, but my embarrassment stopped me.
Rather than doing that, I lugged my baby and our luggage straight to a free women’s shelter in the city.
The bedroom was super cramped and basic. Mia drank her bottle while I rested on the mattress and wept. After that, I phoned Grandma Rose.
Ethan’s dad’s mother picked up the phone after two rings. By the time I explained the whole mess, I had lost my voice entirely.
The line stayed totally quiet for a long while. Then she asked, “Why did you not contact me sooner?”
“I was way too heartbroken to think clearly.”
“I will handle everything,” she assured me.
