Chapter 2

"Divorce? Fine! Just don't come crying to me later!"

Two weeks later, outside the county courthouse, Rick stood holding the green divorce certificate, grinning like he'd won something.

"Winona, you're thirty-eight, dragging a kid around. What man is ever going to want you now?"

I didn't bother answering. I took Howie's hand and walked to my car without looking back.

The apartment was mine, bought with a down payment before the marriage. Per the settlement, I paid Rick three hundred thousand so he'd walk away with nothing else.

Three hundred thousand. It emptied out nearly every dollar I'd saved these past few years.

But I didn't care. I just wanted the quiet.

Reality slapped that idea out of me fast.

Three days after the divorce, my company landed a major project.

As project director, I was stuck at the office until nine every night.

So I paid a premium, six thousand a month, for a nanny named Prudence Lambert to pick Howie up and cook dinner.

Within two weeks, the house had fallen apart.

That day I got off early. The moment I pushed the door open, a thick reek of stale cooking grease hit me.

The kitchen was a disaster, the sink piled with dirty dishes, the trash can giving off a sour stench.

Prudence sat on the couch scrolling through videos, the volume turned up loud enough to shake the walls.

Howie was hunched alone in the corner of the balcony, hugging his knees, his eyes red-rimmed.

"Nanny Lambert, what's going on here? Why is the house like this?" I asked, holding down my temper.

Prudence rolled her eyes and got to her feet, slow as she pleased.

"Oh, come on, Miss Fox, there's just too much work in this house. My back's bad, I can't do all that. And your son's a picky eater. He won't touch anything I make."

I went to Howie and felt his forehead, and realized his little palms were cold from hunger.

"Mommy, I don't like the food she makes. It's all spicy…" Howie looked up at me, miserable.

"You awful child, why would you lie like that?"

Prudence shrieked at the top of her lungs, "I made it spicy to warm the chill out of him! Single moms these days just don't know how to raise a kid. They spoil them rotten!"

"Shut your mouth!"

I whipped around and fixed my eyes on her.

"You take my money, buy the cheapest discount vegetables, and pocket what's left of the grocery cash. You think I don't know?"

Prudence's face changed. She took a guilty step back.

"Don't come tomorrow. I'll pay out your wages. Now get out."

After I sent the nanny packing, I cleaned the house alone until the middle of the night.

At two in the morning, I sank into the couch, staring at the empty living room, and a suffocation like nothing I'd felt before rose up in me.

My phone buzzed then. A message in the project group chat, demanding the revised proposal by eight the next morning.

I rubbed my aching temples and glanced at my sleeping son.

The trap of single motherhood is like a vast bog.

The harder you struggle, the deeper you sink.