Chapter 3

Daisy was born weighing barely five pounds, wrinkled and small like a little monkey, without even the strength to cry.

I'd stayed up nights sewing her a little red tiger bib, the stitches crooked and clumsy. When I put it on her, her tiny hand grabbed at one of the tiger's ears and gave a small tug, and the tears just spilled out of me. I was in the hospital for two days. He came once, tossed down two hundred dollars, and left, saying he was going drinking with friends and I could figure out my own meals.

I carried the baby home from the hospital alone, back to the rented room, cold stove, cold pot, not even a warm meal waiting. I gnawed at a cold dinner roll with plain water, tears dripping onto it drop by drop until it went salty and bitter, and I gritted my teeth and swallowed it down and told myself I had to hold on, for my daughter.

When Daisy was six months old, I caught him in the act, in our bed, with that woman. He wasn't the least bit flustered when he saw me walk in. He just said, "If you can live with it, live with it. If you can't, get out. I'm the one paying rent on this place. What gives you the right to stay?"

I picked up Daisy and left, didn't even pack a bag, thirty-five dollars in my pocket. I rode the bus two hours to my friend Lily Morgan's place. That night I swore to myself that even if I had to beg on the street for the rest of my life, I would never come back to this home, never have anything to do with this man again. The divorce went smoothly.

He couldn't wait to be rid of me. No child to support, no property to split.

The day we went to sign the divorce papers, he showed up holding that woman's hand, making a point of parading past me. The woman looped her arm through his on purpose and smiled at me, smug. I didn't so much as glance at him. I signed and walked out. I didn't even take my copy of the papers, just dropped it straight in the trash can outside the county clerk's office. It made me sick.

Lily found me an apprentice job at a nail salon, room and board included, a thousand dollars a month. Every morning I got up at five to practice applying polish, practiced until my hands were covered in blisters and I couldn't even hold a pair of chopsticks. Three months later I'd finished my training and could take clients on my own. My boss said I was the hardest-working apprentice she'd ever seen.

I rented a little place next to the salon, ten square meters, and brought Daisy over. The two of us finally had a home of our own. Back then I thought that no matter how hard or how exhausting it got, it was worth it. As long as I had Daisy, I wasn't afraid of anything.