Not one dollar.
Not one cent.
For the next five years, life became something I survived one day at a time.
I learned how to stretch groceries.
I learned how to fix things around the house myself.
I learned how to smile when people asked whether I was « adjusting. »
Adjusting.
Such a polite word for being abandoned.
My children checked on me constantly.
My daughters heard things in my voice I tried to hide.