Grandma didn’t understand legal procedures. What she did understand was that her granddaughter was hers to protect.
Without hesitation, she took my hand and led me away, ignoring the disapproving looks behind her. What happened after that, I never found out.
When I was little, Grandma raised me in her old house. The conditions were modest, but I never felt uneasy. There was a quiet comfort in that place.
Half a month passed. The college entrance exams were approaching, and I was boarding at school, returning home only once every two or three weeks. That day, it rained heavily. I held an umbrella, walking toward the bus stop, when someone blocked my path.
It was my mom, livid. “Jolene, Fiona is at the school across the street. It’s raining, and she doesn’t have an umbrella. As her older sister, shouldn’t you know to bring her one?”
My dad’s car idled near the school gate. My mom sat in the passenger seat, clearly unwilling to step out into the rain. The car couldn’t drive in, and Fiona wouldn’t come out without an umbrella. So they expected me to take mine to her.
I didn’t ask why they were still picking her up together. Instead, I looked down and refused, gently but firmly. “I only have one umbrella.”
If I gave it to her, what would I do? I had no car to shield me from the rain.
My mom’s fury flared. She got out of the car and, in front of my teachers and classmates, smacked the back of my head. I stumbled forward, humiliated. Her voice was sharp, cutting through the downpour.
“It’s just an umbrella! You’re the older sister, it’s your duty to give it to her! Would it make you happy if she got sick in the rain?”
People around us turned to stare. My dignity crumbled under their gazes.
I kept my head down, silent for a long time, then spoke softly. “If I get wet, I’ll get sick too.”
She wasn’t expecting defiance. Her authority as a mother was being challenged. Enraged, she struck me again and yanked the umbrella from my hand. “Ungrateful brat,” she muttered, opening the umbrella to go fetch Fiona.
I lifted my gaze and watched her. Then, without a word, I snatched the umbrella back, threw it to the ground, and stomped on it until
