Chapter 3

Perhaps for an unloved child, even surviving takes tremendous effort.

My relationship with my mother completely shattered when Bradley confessed his feelings for me.

When he stood before me, face flushed, nervously saying "I like you," I was tempted to use him to get my mother's attention.

In the end, I didn't. I turned Bradley down.

But he persisted, coming to our house more often, even slipping love notes into my room.

One day, I came home to find my mother waiting, letter in hand.

Before I could speak, she slapped me hard across the face.

I clutched my cheek, bewildered.

She threw the letter at me.

"Bradley isn't like you. He's Ivy League material!"

"Your father doesn't care about you, and I can't control you. I'm not even your homeroom teacher. You could be working the streets for all I care!"

"But you absolutely cannot seduce my student!"

Seduce? I couldn't fathom why that word came from my mother's mouth.

But I refused to take the blame for something I hadn't done.

"He came to me!"

My mother grabbed my hair: "So now you're talking back! If you didn't lead him on, why would he confess to you and not someone else?"

She dragged me to my room.

She seized my clothes and shredded them with scissors.

I stared at the scraps on the floor.

She'd probably forgotten these were hand-me-downs from my cousin.

The cousin she considered the perfect young lady.

It seemed that in her eyes, even my birth was a mistake.

Yet she was the one who had desperately wanted to bring me into this world.

I don't remember leaving the house.

When I came to, I was outside Dad's apartment building.

I didn't want to disturb his new family.

But as I turned to go, I saw them.

His little girl perched on his shoulders.

His wife was smiling, playing with the child.

The moment she saw me, her smile vanished.

It seemed I was unwanted everywhere.

I awkwardly tried to leave.

But Dad came after me.

Looking at this aging man, perhaps softened by his new daughter, his face had lost its sternness.

I wanted to call out, but didn't know what to say.

They all treated my birth as a disgrace.

The words caught in my throat, and all I managed was: "Mr. Jefferson."

Dad nodded, smiling, and took out a hundred-dollar bill.

"Don't come here anymore. You've seen I have a new family now. Your sister might get jealous."

I shook my head, wanting to explain.

Then I heard a sweet little voice, "Daddy."

Dad's face lit up as he ran over.

He scooped up his little girl, who was seeking attention.

"Daddy, who is she?"

"A friend's child."

I was left standing alone, staring at the crumpled hundred in my hand.

Though both my parents were alive and within reach, I had long since lost any real family.

To them, I seemed nothing but a burden.

Their most shameful memory, the one they least wanted to recall.

My very existence seemed to constantly remind them of their past mistake.

I wandered for hours, until I thought my mother must have cooled off.

Then I saw the things outside our door.

Two small boxes containing all my belongings.

I knocked.

"Miss Anderson."

I wasn't even eighteen yet, and I had no friends. I had nowhere to go.

"Stop knocking! You're not just my kid. Go find your father!"

After the angry shout came the sound of the door locking.