Then she met Ray when I was 15.
Ray came with his two kids.
Danny was 11. Cara was nine. They stayed with us every other weekend, which meant our tiny house suddenly held five people, three backpacks by the door, and approximately nine thousand dirty cups.
Ray paid child support.
Mom still worked overtime.
Money didn’t magically get better.
But Ray never once made me feel like I was the extra mouth causing the problem.
He came to my football games.
Every one.
Even the season I barely left the bench.
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