Chapter 2 - Carla Had Been More Than My Sister After My Divorce
When Lily was three, my marriage ended.
Not dramatically.
No affair.
No violence.
Her father, Marcus, and I had married too young and spent seven years becoming people who wanted very different lives.
Marcus took a logistics job in Tennessee after the divorce.
He stayed involved.
Called.
Paid support.
Saw Lily on scheduled weekends and school breaks.
But day-to-day?
I was mostly alone.
I worked as a project manager for a regional insurance company.
Good job.
Not glamorous.
Predictable pay.
Then my department restructured.
Suddenly I had:
longer hours,
more travel,
less flexibility.
That was when Carla became essential.
She lived fifteen minutes away.
No children of her own.
Worked remotely as a senior claims auditor.
Organized.
Reliable.
Always available.
At first, she helped once a week.
Then twice.
Then during school breaks.
If Lily had a mild fever and daycare would not take her:
Carla.
If my flight was delayed:
Carla.
If I had a 7:30 a.m. meeting:
Carla.
She packed lunches.
Helped with homework.
Remembered library days.
Bought Lily winter boots before I noticed the old pair had become too small.
There were years when I thought:
I could not do this without her.
That sentence was probably true.
It also became dangerous.
Because the more necessary someone becomes, the harder it is to challenge how they use that position.
Carla never called herself a second mother.
But she acted like one.
At first, I was grateful.
Then sometimes:
uncomfortable.
May you like
Then both.
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