Chương 6
When I opened them, Grandpa was looking at me, not at Mom.
I tried again.
“Please give me my insurance card.”
Mom did not move.
“And Noah’s.”
“That’s the same policy.”
“I want the card.”
“You have it digitally.”
“I don’t have the login.”
“You never use the portal.”
“That isn’t the point.”
Lauren let out a breath.
“This is exactly what I mean.”
I turned toward her.
“What?”
“You’re letting him wind you up.”
“Did you know Mom had my bank password?”
She blinked.
It was small.
Too small for anyone who was not waiting for it.
“You knew.”
“I knew she helped you.”
“With what?”
“Stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Madison, I have my own life.”
“Did you know she had my debit card?”
Lauren’s gaze slid toward Mom.
That was answer enough.
Something inside me sank.
Not broke.
Not exploded.
Just sank.
“Why?”
Lauren’s face hardened because guilt had always made her mean.
“You were a mess.”
The sentence struck harder because she said it quietly.
Mom stepped down onto the porch.
“Lauren.”
“No, I’m serious.”
She looked at me.
“You want the truth?”
“I want my documents.”
“You couldn’t remember appointments.”
“I had a newborn.”
“You overdrafted twice.”
“By how much?”
She stopped.
I looked at Mom.
“How much?”
Mom’s lips parted.
Dad spoke first.
“Small amounts.”
“How much?”
“Madison, this is ridiculous.”
“How much?”
Grandpa’s voice came low beside me.
“Richard.”
Dad looked at him.
“Answer her.”
Dad rubbed both hands over his face.
“Forty-six dollars once.”
“And?”
“Twenty-something.”
I stared at them.
“You took my debit card because I overdrafted seventy dollars?”
Mom came down another step.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because you were spending without tracking anything.”
“On what?”
“Formula.”
Her voice rose.
“Diapers, bottles, those ridiculous swaddles you bought three of, food delivery because you said you were too tired to cook.”
“I was three weeks postpartum.”
“I know.”
“You told me to order food.”
“I said occasionally.”
A strange calm came over me.
It felt less like courage than exhaustion.
“How much money is left?”
Mom went still.
Lauren looked away.
Dad stared at the porch railing.
Grandpa did not say anything.
I heard a car pass behind us.
Its tires hissed over damp pavement.
“How much?” I asked again.
Mom’s eyes filled.
That frightened me more than if she had shouted.
“I don’t know the exact number.”
“You handle the account.”
“Yes.”
“So you know approximately.”
She pressed her lips together.
“About thirty-eight hundred.”
The cold seemed to move straight through my coat.
I heard myself say, “No.”
Mom started immediately.
“Madison, there were expenses.”
“I had eleven thousand.”
“You had more than eleven.”
My head lifted.
“What?”
Dad muttered something under his breath.
Mom looked at him.
Grandpa’s face changed.
Not much.
Enough.
“How much more?” I asked.
Mom did not answer.
Grandpa spoke.
“Elaine.”
She flinched at her name.
“How much was in Madison’s account?”
Mom looked at me with an expression I could not read.
Pity, maybe.
Or anger at being forced to say something she had decided I did not need to know.
“Just under twenty-three.”
I stopped breathing.
For a second, the porch, the driveway, the Cadillac, all of it seemed too sharply outlined.
I shifted my grip on Noah’s carrier because my fingers had gone numb.
“Twenty-three thousand?”
Mom nodded.
“From where?”
Nobody answered.
I looked at Grandpa.
He was staring at Mom.
“Elaine.”
His voice had become very quiet.
“What did you deposit into her account?”
Mom’s chin trembled.
“It wasn’t just me.”
Dad said, “Don’t.”
She rounded on him.
“You think I’m taking all of this?”
“I think you should stop talking.”
“You should have thought of that six months ago.”
Lauren stared between them.
“What are you talking about?”
For once, she sounded genuinely confused.
Grandpa looked at me.
“Madison, your grandmother left you twelve thousand dollars.”
My mind rejected it.
“No.”
“She did.”
“You said there was a small policy.”
“There was.”
“You said—”
“I said I would explain the estate when things settled.”
“You never did.”
His face tightened.
“No.”
He looked at Mom again.
“I was told you had been given the paperwork.”
Mom’s voice cracked.
“I gave her what she needed.”
“You gave me nothing.”
She turned toward me.
“You were pregnant and panicking and talking about moving out and doing all these things you could not afford.”
“So you took it?”
“I protected it.”
“You put it in my account.”
“Yes.”
“Then spent it.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Do not make it sound like I bought jewelry.”
“I don’t know what you bought.”
“That house costs money.”
The sentence landed so cleanly that everyone went silent.
Dad closed his eyes.
Lauren whispered, “Mom.”
Mom seemed to hear herself a second too late.
She crossed her arms tighter.
“You lived there.”
“I was told I could live there.”
“You can.”
“For twelve thousand dollars?”
“That is not fair.”
“What did you spend it on?”
“Groceries.”
“How much?”
“Utilities.”
“How much?”
“Your hospital balance.”
“That was nine hundred dollars.”
“You don’t know what things cost.”
“I know twelve thousand dollars is not groceries.”
Dad came down the steps.
“That is enough.”
I looked at him.
“Did you know?”
His face answered before his mouth did.
I felt something inside me go hollow.
“You knew.”
“We were behind.”
Mom snapped, “Richard.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“No more.”
Then he looked at me, and the shame in his face was almost unbearable.
“I knew some money was being used.”
“Some?”
“I did not know how much at first.”
“When did you know?”
He stared at the driveway.
“October.”
I calculated automatically.
Noah had been born in November.
“You knew before he was born.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I thought we would replace it.”
Lauren sat down hard on the porch step.
Her anger was gone.
“What did you use it for?”
Dad rubbed the back of his neck.
“The mortgage.”
Mom looked away.
May you like
He continued.
“Two months of it, then property taxes.”
