Chapter 1Five years taking care of my paralyzed father-in-law. My hands? Bleach and ointment. Couldn't scrub the smell off.
Thought I was being a good wife. Holding it all together.
Guess what I got for it?
My husband pinched his nose in front of his coworkers. Said I smelled like death.
That's when I got it.
You give everything? They'll just take more. And spit on you after.
Think I'm disgusting?
Great.
Your dad. Your mess. Your turn.
I'M OUT.
---
Anniversary dinner.
I'd been cooking chicken soup all afternoon—four hours of that.
Tossed in some herbs, whatever I could find.
My father-in-law Richard Walsh's been paralyzed five years now.
His tongue's basically useless. Can't swallow anything that's not mush.
So I tore up the chicken real tiny and mixed it into some warm rice mush.
Then the door banged open.
My husband Derek Walsh walked in. Had some woman with him in red heels.
Kendall—his new assistant.
Second she got inside, her hand flew up to cover her nose.
"Derek, what IS that smell?"
"God, it's like something died in here."
Derek's face went dark.
He went straight to the windows and started yanking them open.
"Ramona, you change Dad's diaper or not?"
He was talking loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
"This place smells disgusting. I'm getting a headache."
I just stood there with the bowl in my hands.
I'd literally just given him a bath half an hour ago. Changed all the sheets.
"I already changed it." I stared right at Derek.
"Dad's leg is rotting, okay? The medicine on the wound—that smell doesn't just go away."
Derek didn't even listen.
He came at me and ripped the hot soup right out of my hands.
Slammed it down on the coffee table.
The soup splashed everywhere—burned the hell out of my hand.
"You changed it and it STILL smells like this?"
"Kendall's just here for a contract. You doing this to embarrass me?"
Kendall was standing by the door.
Put her hand over her mouth and laughed.
"Ramona, not to be a bitch, but someone's sick? You really gotta air this place out."
"Derek's closing million-dollar deals every day. Why's he gotta come home and smell THIS?"
Her perfume was so strong it made my eyes water.
Then I heard Richard yelling from the bedroom.
"DEREK! You home?!"
"Get that bitch out of here! She hurt me when she was washing my back!"
Derek heard that and lost it.
Stuck his finger right in my face—almost poked me in the eye.
"You hear that? Even Dad's done with you."
"Five years, Ramona. Cleaning the house and wiping an old man's ass. That's it."
"You look like you collect garbage off the street. Smell like a nursing home."
Kendall walked over and shoved some papers at Derek.
"Sign this. I gotta go. This smell is making me sick."
Derek's face totally changed. All sweet and smiley.
"Hold on, I'll walk you out. Let's grab food."
The soup I made? Didn't even look at it.
He signed the papers. Grabbed his keys. Out the door.
Then stopped. Turned around.
"Clean this shit up. Get some Febreze."
"And throw that apron in the trash. It's nasty."
SLAM.
Richard was in the other room screaming.
"WATER! RAMONA! YOU DEAF?!"
I looked down at my hand.
Big blister where the soup got me.
My nails looked gross. All yellow and brown.
That's what happens when you crush up pills and herbs every single day for years.
I walked to the bathroom. Looked in the mirror.
Way older than thirty. Eyes like I never sleep. Hair thrown up with a dollar-store clip.
Old shirt. Ugly apron.
I leaned in and sniffed my collar.
Yep.
Bleach. Medicine. Death.
That's what I smelled like.
Five years of it. On my skin. In my hair. On every piece of clothing I owned.
And now they were calling me disgusting.
Chapter 2
I walked to the bedroom doorway.
Richard grabbed his cup and threw it at me.
Hit my forehead. Smashed into the door.
"What're you doing just standing there? Gonna let me die?"
Staring at me with those nasty cloudy eyes. Spit coming out of his mouth.
"My son makes good money. You sit on your ass all day eating our food."
"Can't even get me water without making a big deal out of it."
"That girl Derek brought home? She looked nice. You? You look like shit."
I didn't pick up the broken pieces.
Just stood there. Looked at him.
Five years ago, he had a stroke in the bathroom. Half his body paralyzed. Couldn't control when he pissed or shit himself.
Derek got on his knees. Literally begging me.
"Ramona, just two years. Take care of Dad for two years. I'll make director. We'll get a nurse."
"I swear. I'll never let you down."
So I quit.
Left my manager position at a Fortune 500 company.
Eighteen hundred days.
Every morning at 5 AM—roll him over, pat his back, suck the phlegm out, stick the catheter in.
When he couldn't shit and the suppositories didn't work? I put gloves on and pulled it out myself.
He had a temper. Smashed at least a hundred bowls.
Derek would come home. Stand there for five minutes.
"Dad doing okay?"
Then go hide in his office bitching about how it smells.
Now they were both on the same side.
Saying I was disgusting.
"WHERE'S MY WATER?! YOU DEAF?!" Richard kept yelling.
I smiled.
Took off my apron. Threw it in the trash.
"You want water?"
I looked right at him.
"Ask your son. The one with all that money. Tell him to come home and get it for you."
Richard froze.
Five years. I'd never talked to him like that.
Even when he threw hot medicine at me, I'd wipe it up. Get him another cup.
"You... what'd you just say? You lost your MIND!"
Grabbed his pillow. Threw it at me.
Hit my feet.
I didn't even look at it.
Went to the bedroom. Pulled my suitcase out from under the bed.
Zipper ripped loud when I opened it.
Opened the closet.
Derek's side? Fancy suits. Cashmere coats. All perfect.
My side? Cheap shit from discount stores. Baggy dark clothes. Stuff I could get dirty.
I pulled everything out. Folded it. Threw it in.
Five years married. Everything I owned fit in one suitcase.
Jewelry box was empty.
Three years ago Richard needed surgery. I sold my wedding necklace. Paid the hospital deposit.
Derek cried. Said he'd buy me ten more.
Then he made VP. Started making six figures. Bought himself an eight-thousand-dollar watch.
Never bought me that necklace.
Found an old notebook in the nightstand.
I wrote down everything. Five years of receipts.
What medicine I bought. What day. What catheter. All of it.
Derek gave me three thousand a month. For everything.
Groceries for three people. Diapers. Supplements. All three grand.
Wasn't enough. I used my own money. The money I saved before we got married.
Five years later? My two hundred thousand was down to nothing. Four digits left.
I took the notebook. Snapped pictures. Left it on the coffee table.
Put my marriage certificate next to it. House key too.
Richard heard the suitcase. Started freaking out.
"RAMONA! You walk out that door, I'll tell my son to KILL you!"
"You can't even have kids! What're you good for?!"
"You leave, you're NEVER coming back!"
Chapter 3
I rolled the suitcase past his door.
Stopped. Looked back.
"Mr. Walsh. Hope you live a real long time."
Didn't call him Dad anymore.
Just Mr. Walsh.
Richard's face went white. His lips trembled, but nothing came out.
I left.
Dragged my suitcase down the stairs. Out into the cold.
Winter air hit me. Sharp. Freezing.
I took a deep breath.
My lungs felt clear. First time in years.
No bleach. No medicine. No piss.
Just clean, cold air.
I pulled out my phone. Texted my college roommate.
"Blair, that job you mentioned—still open?"
Blair called me right away.
"Ramona?! You're READY?!"
"I saved that spot for you! You can start whenever!"
"Wait. What happened? You sound off."
I stood on the curb. Cars going by.
"Getting divorced. Can I crash at your place?"
Blair was quiet for two seconds.
Then screamed.
"HELL YES! I'm getting champagne! Coming to get you!"
11 PM. Derek called.
I hung up.
He called again. And again.
On the fourth call, I answered.
He was screaming.
"Ramona, what the hell is wrong with you?! Where'd you go?!"
"Dad shit the bed! It's everywhere!"
"I just dropped Kendall off and stepped in it! You trying to embarrass me?!"
Could hear Richard crying in the background.
And Derek gagging.
I held the phone away from my ear. Leaning against Blair's balcony.
"Derek. Notebook's on the table. Key's next to it."
"Tomorrow. Nine AM. Courthouse."
Derek froze.
Then laughed. Cold.
"Divorce? You threatening me?"
"Ramona, wake up. You haven't worked in five years. What're you gonna do without me? Where you gonna live?"
"Get your ass back here. Clean up Dad. We'll forget tonight happened."
"Or you can beg later. I still won't take you back."
I stared at the city lights.
"Derek. You make six figures. Can't hire a five-thousand-dollar caregiver?"
"You're so good at everything. Such a good son. Go prove it."
"I'm done."
I hung up. Blocked his number.
Blair came out with a glass of wine.
"Ramona, congrats. You're free."
I took the glass.
"Thanks."
Looked out at the sky. Dark.
This was just the beginning.
Everything Derek and Richard owed me?
I was getting it all back.
