Family Storms by V.C. Andrews Page B

we had eaten, she had gone into their bedroom and come out with a look of shock and anger on her face. I was doing my homework in the living room.
    â€œThat bastard,” she had said. I looked up and waited for her to explain. “He took all the spare cash I thought I had hidden from him under my panties in the top drawer of my dresser. So I thought I had better check my mother’s jewelry, the ring and necklace and that cameo my mother gave me. It was worth a few thousand, at least. Guess what? That’s gone, too. He went and pawned it all, I’m sure.”
    I didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sobbing, nor were her shoulders shaking, but tears were streaming down her cheeks.
    â€œI went into the closet and saw that he’s taken a lot of his clothes.”
    â€œWhy?” I asked.
    â€œWhy? Why?” She sniffed, looked up at the ceiling and then at me. “He’s gone, Sasha. That glob of flesh and bones who called himself my husband and your father is gone. I knew he was seeing this woman over in West L.A. My guess is, he’s moved in with her. I’ll find out, and I’ll get the police on his back. You can be sure of that.”
    She returned to her bedroom and shut the door. I could barely breathe. Just remembering it took my breath away now. How could Jordan March expect me to relive it?
    â€œNo,” I said. “He never told us he was leaving. My mother thought he had moved in with another woman, but when the police checked, both of them were gone. Later, she heard that someone thought he had gone to Hawaii. She tried to find him, but no one really helped us.”
    â€œHow terrible for both of you. Your mother had stopped working, right?”
    â€œYes, but she went back to working at a restaurant the next week, and for a while, everything seemed okay. She was sad, though, and tired and …”
    â€œBegan to drink?”
    I nodded.
    â€œSo she lost her job eventually?”
    â€œYes, but she got another and …”
    â€œThe same thing happened.”
    I nodded.
    â€œSo your bills began piling up. There are so many people, especially women who’ve been deserted, who are just like that out there. You lost the house, I imagine?”
    â€œWe didn’t have a house. We had an apartment, and the police came one day and told us we had to leave right away.”
    â€œEvicted? Yes, of course, that would happen. Where did you go?”
    â€œTo a hotel, but Mama wasn’t doing well. She didn’t have a job anymore, so we couldn’t pay the rent too long.”
    â€œAnd that’s when you went out on the street?”
    I nodded.
    â€œYou said she sold calligraphy she created?”
    â€œAnd I sold lanyards.”
    â€œYes, which you made. That’s sweet, but how terribly difficult it had to be. Where did you sleep, exactly?”
    â€œSometimes just under the tree, sometimes in a big box Mama made. For a while, we slept in an old deserted car, but then someone came along and took it away.”
    â€œYou stopped going to school?”
    â€œIt was too far and hard for me to go. I didn’t have my old clothes.”
    â€œOf course, and anyway, where would you do your schoolwork?” she said, nodding. “Didn’t your mother try to get some help?”
    How was I to explain what Mama had been like without making her sound terrible? I just shook my head.
    â€œYour mother …” She hesitated and thought for a moment. I could see she was deciding whether or not to tell me something.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYour mother had quite a bit of alcohol in her at the time of the accident,” she said. “I’m not saying that made it her fault or anything,” she quickly added. “She was like that often, though? I mean, every day?”
    I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t have to.
    â€œI’m sure it made it all that much harder for you.” She grew angry again. “That