Chapter 3

I pushed the burnt brisket around my plate, my appetite gone. "I was thinking I could stay in my old room for a bit, just until I find my own place."

Kevin let out a short, sharp laugh. "Your old room? You mean my man cave?"

I looked at him, confused. "What?"

"We needed the space," Beth said, finally looking at me. Her tone was defensive. "Kevin needed a place to relax. You haven't lived here in over twenty years, Sarah."

"What happened to my things? My bed? My desk?"

"Oh, we sold that stuff," my mother chimed in, as if discussing the weather. "Got a couple hundred bucks for it on Facebook Marketplace. Put it toward the electric bill."

My childhood furniture, the things I had left behind assuming they were safe, sold for a pittance.

"So where am I supposed to sleep?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

"There's an old air mattress in the basement," my father offered, not unkindly, but with a clear sense of finality. "It's not much, but it's a place to lay your head."

The basement. With the spiders and the mildew. The message was crystal clear. Without the high-paying Silicon Valley job, I wasn't the successful daughter anymore. I was a burden. An unwelcome guest in the house my money had bought.

I felt a slow burn of anger start deep in my gut. It was a feeling I had suppressed for decades.