I paid for his college with that money. Every penny of tuition, every textbook, every fee. When the final bill was paid four years later, there was exactly twelve dollars and thirty-seven cents left in those cans.
Deacon graduated with a degree in finance, got hired at a prestigious firm in downtown Columbus, started wearing expensive suits and driving a nice car and dating women who smelled like perfume that cost more than my monthly grocery budget.
He met Sloan at a conference where she was working a booth and he was there representing his firm. She sold devices to hospitals, made six figures, drove a BMW, and lived in a downtown apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the city skyline.
They married two years later in an expensive ceremony where I wore a dress from Goodwill that I’d carefully altered myself. I sat in the third row so I wouldn’t be prominently visible in the professional photographs. I smiled until my face hurt and told everyone how proud I was, and I meant it.
