When I was nine and in fourth grade, my mother attempted to become independent from Raul. You see, he was helping her pay the rent and other bills, so she kept him around even though he dislocated her jaw a couple of times and drove us home while drunk, probably not in the same evening, but who knows. My mom thought if we got a cheaper place to live, we could get away from Raul. So, she decided we would move from our two-bedroom, two-bathroom duplex to an efficiency with no stove, or living room. It was basically a master bedroom with a kitchen sink and a tiny refrigerator and it was attached to the landlady’s house. This was terrible because my mom learned very quickly that the landlady wanted to take Raul’s place.