He looked stunned.
“I want to teach. Like Mom.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“I already accepted a job. Fourth grade at a public school in Decatur.”
He stared at me.
“You’ll make forty thousand dollars a year.”
“I know.”
“You’re a Caldwell.”
“I know.”
Then I said something that changed us for years.
“That’s the problem. I don’t want to be a Caldwell. I want to be someone who shows up.”
His face closed.
I moved out that week.
A one-bedroom apartment in Decatur.
A noisy window air conditioner.
At school, I began using my middle name with parents.
Simone Grace.
On paperwork, I often left the family-contact section empty.
I told myself I didn’t need my father.
I was right about his money.
Not necessarily about him.
I met Roland Tran when I was twenty-seven.
He was a financial adviser in Buckhead.
Handsome.
Charming.
