I Held the Keys

Chapter 5 — Rebecca Sloan

That afternoon I sat across a desk from Rebecca Sloan, whose flat, direct voice and dark glasses made it clear that sentimentality was not on the menu and would not help me if it were.

I told her about the motel, and about my parents shutting the door, and about Grant already telling anyone who would listen that I had walked out of our home on my own, voluntarily, in a fit of hysteria.

She made a few notes and then looked at me over the top of the glasses.

“You need temporary custody orders, child support, access to marital funds, and possibly exclusive use of the house. That’s the list. We start today.”

“I don’t have much money,” I said.

“We have a payment schedule for parents in emergency displacement. That’s what you are.” She capped her pen.