Alex was a buddy from college. Back then, my mom hustled extra hard to make ends meet, worried I'd run short. Not much of a scholar, but she cooked up a storm. She set up an ice jelly stand outside my university. Killer taste, spotless setup, always drew a crowd.
I was the it-girl at school—looks and brains. That rubbed some folks the wrong way. They couldn't touch me, so they dissed my mom instead.
They'd trash-talk her at the stall, spewing nonsense about "country folks craving city life."
Alex wasn't having any of it. He shooed them off and got his orphanage crew to watch over Mom.
He'd always say how he envied me for having a mom like mine.
We started hanging out, sharing meals, and yeah, fell hard for each other.
He promised when he made it big, he'd make sure we never had to deal with bullies again.
I thought we'd stick together, climb out of the gutter side by side, and be each other's rock.
But no, the minute he got a taste of cash, he started seeing himself as above the rest, running those pathetic 'poverty tests.'
I snagged a furnished apartment, almost as nice as a hotel. Moved in with just my suitcase—no fuss.
There was a tiny dressing room I didn't need, so I turned it into a little shrine for Mom's stuff, like she was still around.
Maybe she'd drop by in my dreams, or around our special days.
Took a day to get my head straight, then hit the job hunt.
After marrying, I'd faded into the background, my resume a ghost town.
Sure, I worked behind the scenes, unpaid, invisible at the company. To the world, I was just Alex's wife, the lady living off his wallet.
Never thought Alex would show up at my new place today.
He looked angry, so surely I wouldn't have any thought that he was here to ask me home.
He barged in, furious, scanning the room like he was looking for something, then snapped, "Where's your mom?"
It caught me off guard and sounded almost like a curse, "What are you talking about?"
He shifted gears, annoyed, "I asked where your mom went. Get her out here, now."
That set me off, "Joking about her now? Really? I told you, the night you played your sick game, she died in that landslide."
Cecelia stepped out from behind him. "Alex, see? These lowlifes, always scheming, have no morals. Even faking their own deaths for a buck."
I'd ignored her cheap shots before, but dissing my mom to my face? Couldn't let that slide.
I slapped her quick, "What your mouth!"