Chapter 7 - THE DESPERATE PLEA
A month passed. The divorce proceedings between my parents were brutal and swift. Monica was demanding alimony, half of Dad’s pension, and ownership of the beach house, claiming she was entitled to financial support after thirty-four years of marriage.
One evening, while Dad was out meeting his legal team, a banging came at the front door of the beach house. I opened it to find Monica standing on the porch.
She looked unrecognizable. The polished, pristine woman who spent thousands on hair salons and designer clothes was gone. Her hair was unkempt, her clothing wrinkled, and her eyes were bloodshot.
"Sandy," she sobbed, trying to push her way past the threshold. "Please, darling... you have to speak to your father for me. He’s cutting me off completely! I have no money left! My lawyer says I might get nothing!"
I stood in the doorway, blocking her path. "You shouldn't be here, Monica."
"Don't call me Monica! I am your mother!" she screamed, her voice breaking into hysterical shrieks. "I raised you! I carried you for nine months! How can you be so cold to your own mother?!"
"You stopped being my mother the moment you laid down with my fiancé," I said, my voice cold as ice. "You betrayed Dad, and you betrayed me. You ruined two lives for your own pathetic ego."
"I made a mistake!" she wept, dropping to her knees on the wooden porch, clutching at my jeans. "I was lonely! Your father ignored me for years! He cared more about his court cases than he did about me! Michael gave me attention... he made me feel young again!"
"Stop blaming Dad!" I shouted, kicking my foot free from her grasp. "Dad adored you! He spent thirty-four years serving you, providing for you, loving you! You chose to ruin everything. Now you have to live with the consequences."
"Sandy, please!" she begged, tears streaming down her face. "Tell your father not to ruin me! I have nowhere to go!"
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"Then I suggest you call Michael," I said flatly. "Maybe he'll give you a place to stay."
I closed the heavy oak door in her face and locked it, ignoring her pounding and screaming until the police—called by the neighbors—arrived to escort her off the property.
