Replacing my ex

Chapter 8

When Viola woke up, she found me lying on the cold hard kitchen floor, in fetal position.

“L?” she cooed softly.

Without a word, I got up, lifted my laptop from the kitchen table and took it to her. I scrolled to the savings account balance and showed it to her.

Viola’s eyes widened and she snapped her head to look at me. All I could do was nod sadly at her. Silently, she raised her hand to her mouth and collapsed into the chair beside the kitchen table.

Never has Viola been stunned into silence. She knew exactly what this meant for me.

Growing up, I was raised by a single mother. My father, I was told, ran off the second he found out my mom was pregnant. My mother worked multiple jobs to make sure I had food on my plate, a warm place to lay my head at night and an education. We were always struggling but at least we had each other.

When I was 14, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Because we were struggling, she made the decision to hide her diagnosis from me, choosing to forego the costs associated with treatment so she could afford to pay for college for me later. She sacrificed herself so I could become somebody in life.

A few months after the diagnosis, my useless father came crawling back, claiming he wanted a relationship with me and my mom. Mom thought it would be good, because then I’d have someone to take care of me when she passed. What she didn’t account for, was my imbecile of a father. That vile man!

The year I turned 16, it was painfully obvious that mom was unwell. I begged her for months on end to get checked, to stop working herself to the bone. I even got a job working shifts at the local diner after school to try and ease her load.

Finally, she confessed to me. About her diagnosis, about how we couldn’t afford her treatments even with insurance, about how she was deathly afraid of dying anyway and leaving me with huge amounts of debt or surviving and not being able to give me a college education.

I didn’t care about any of that. I just wanted her to try, to get help. But it was too late. Not long after that, mom died. And she was barely in the ground before that man, that parasite, that sorry excuse of a father, had run off with my college fund.

I’ve been obsessed with planning and saving ever since I learned about the diagnosis. I worked hard to get to where I was. I made sacrifices, so many sacrifices. And all of that was wiped away in seconds. And once again by a good for nothing man. A man I poured my love into. A man I supported. A man I gave everything for. A man I basically built.

Viola and I sat together in the kitchen, her on the chair and me on the floor, in complete silence.

After a while, we stood up and Viola went to pour herself some coffee and get the pancakes I’d made for her.

I walked to my room, sat on the bed, and started updating my CV. After I left the diner, I was working for Miller Holdings. When it was just the two of us in Ryan’s little studio apartment, titles didn’t matter. I did most of the background work and Ryan was more the face of our operation.

Eventually, we started hiring people and slowly by slowly my input was limited. There was someone for administration, for marketing, for finance, for sales, and on and on. Eventually those became whole departments. You’d think I’d at least be COO, but Ryan preferred to hire people.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, my princess. I’ll take care of you,” he said. “Spend all the money you like. You deserve to be rewarded for all the hard work you put into building this enterprise.”

I resisted at first, but it soon became easier to let it go to appease Ryan. And at least I had an equal share in the company. I thought everything would be okay.

So, when it came down to it, my resume was looking extremely deficient. But I applied anyway, to job after job. I wasn’t picky. I was desperate. Cleaning, serving, cashier, whatever I thought I could realistically land.

Viola came in after a while with some juice.

“Hey,” she said softly, handing me the juice and sitting on the bed.

“Hey,” I replied, smiling sadly.

“I’m so so sorry this is happening to you,” she whispered softly. “How can I help?”

“Would it be okay if I stayed a little longer than we originally planned?” I asked softly, looking down. “ Just until I can afford to move out “

“Oh babe, you never have to move out if you don’t want to,” she replied. “You will always have me, Lila, no matter what.”

“Thanks,” I sniffed.

“What now?” she asked.

“I need to find a job ASAP,” I replied.

“I’ll ask around. See if anyone I know has any leads,” she said.

“Thanks, Vi. And I’ll literally take anything,” I told her.

She left and I continued my search, obsessively at first but eventually I was doing it mechanically. After a while, I got a headache from staring at the screen for too long and decided to shut my eyes for a bit.

I woke up in a cold sweat, head still pounding. I checked the time. 5:36pm. I hadn’t slept long.

I sat up, deciding to send my last email for the day.

Good evening, Sam.

I hope this email finds you well.

Firstly, I apologize for sending this email on a Sunday evening.

Due to unavoidable circumstances, I will not be continuing -

No, sounds a bit harsh.

I deleted the last sentence.

Due to some new developments-

I don’t like that one either.

I deleted it too.

Due to Ryan’s utter stupidity, and, I admit, mine too, I can’t afford to leave that bastard

and maybe this is the penance I deserve

Delete.

Unfortunately, I can no longer afford to keep you as my divorce lawyer. I really appreciate all the help you have given to me so far and wish you all the best in your future endeavors.

Best,

Lila Storm.

I hit send and shut my laptop, falling backward onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. About 5 minutes later, my phone rang.

“Hello?” I spoke tentatively

“Hi, Lila. Sam here. I got your email. Are you okay?”