Chương 4
Twenty-five minutes later, we were standing outside his two-bedroom apartment in Bronzeville.
Marcus opened the door wearing gray sweatpants, one sock, and an old Bears sweatshirt.
His wife, Renee, stood behind him tying a robe.
Neither of them asked for an explanation.
Renee hugged Emily carefully.
Marcus took my overnight bag even though I had not brought one.
He stared at the empty space where a bag should have been.
“You brought nothing.”
“We left fast.”
“That checks out.”
Renee had already started stripping the sheets off their small guest bed.
“You’re not sleeping on old sheets.”
“They’re not old,” Marcus said.
“You slept in them last month after poker.”
“That was one time.”
“You drool.”
“I was congested.”
Emily laughed again.
The sound loosened something in my chest.
I helped Renee put fresh sheets on the bed while Marcus went to find bottled water.
The room smelled faintly of laundry detergent and the vanilla candle Renee always burned in the hallway.
There was a treadmill folded against one wall with clothes hanging over the handles.
Normal clutter.
Normal life.
Nobody was demanding anything from us.
Nobody was waiting for Emily to clean.
When she finally lay down, she looked smaller somehow despite the curve of her belly.
I sat beside her.
“Do you need anything?”
“Water.”
I handed it to her.
“Food?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You heard the doctor.”
“I know.”
Renee appeared at the door holding a plate with toast, peanut butter, and sliced apple.
“I’m not asking.”
Emily accepted it.
Marcus leaned against the hallway wall behind her.
“Whatever happened, nobody’s dealing with it tonight.”
I nodded.
He looked directly at me.
“That includes you.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You have the face.”
“What face?”
“The face you had when Peterson shorted your overtime.”
“That was different.”
“You put a pallet jack through a cardboard display.”
“By accident.”
Marcus looked at Emily.
“Not by accident.”
For once, she took his side.
“Definitely not by accident.”
I raised both hands.
“Fine.”
Marcus pointed at me.
“Sleep first.”
I did not sleep.
Emily did.
For almost four hours, I sat in a chair beside the bed listening to her breathing.
At three seventeen, I checked my phone.
Forty-two messages waited for me.
My mother had sent eleven.
Brittany had sent nine.
Kayla had sent fourteen.
Lily had sent three.
The rest were from numbers I did not recognize.
I opened Kayla’s thread first.
Most of it was exactly what I expected.
You’re seriously blaming us?
Mom is crying.
This is messed up.
Emily acts like she’s dying every time she has to do anything.
Then there was a message from 12:48 a.m.
You need to check what Mom has been doing before you come at everybody.
I sat straighter.
Below it was another.
I’m serious.
Ask her about your savings.
My mouth went dry.
I read the line three times.
I typed, What savings?
The response came almost immediately.
So she had been awake too.
The account Grandpa left you.
I stared at the screen.
My grandfather had died six years earlier.
He had not left me an account.
At least not one I knew about.
I typed, Call me.
She did.
I stepped into the hallway and closed the guest room door behind me.
Kayla’s voice came through in a whisper.
“Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Is Emily okay?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Good.”
“What account?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“Then tell me what you do know.”
She exhaled.
“Mom has paperwork.”
“What paperwork?”
“Bank stuff.”
“What bank stuff?”
“I don’t know, Ethan.”
“Kayla.”
“Stop saying my name like that.”
“Then stop talking around it.”
She went quiet.
From the living room, Marcus’s refrigerator kicked on with a low hum.
I walked toward the window.
Chicago was mostly dark beyond the glass, except for a strip of headlights moving along the avenue.
“I saw something maybe two months ago,” Kayla said.
“What?”
“Mom had this folder.”
“What folder?”
“Blue.”
I nearly snapped at her.
“I do not care what color it was.”
“Well, I’m trying to remember.”
She sounded close to tears now.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Okay.”
“She had papers with your name on them.”
“What papers?”
“I only saw one.”
“Which said what?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Kayla.”
“I saw your name and Grandpa’s name.”
My pulse climbed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because she said it was nothing.”
“And you believed her?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Another silence.
When she answered, her voice was smaller.
“Because she pays my phone bill.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Not my mother.
Me.
I paid the phone bill.
But in that apartment, gratitude had somehow redirected itself.
Money left my account, passed through Teresa’s hands, and emerged as her generosity.
“What did she say the paperwork was?”
“She said Grandpa had set something up before he died and she was handling it.”
“For me?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“She got mad when I asked.”
A cold pressure settled behind my ribs.
“Where is the folder now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Look.”
“I’m not going through Mom’s stuff.”
“Kayla.”
“She’ll kill me.”
“Then don’t get caught.”
That was an ugly thing to say.
The moment it left my mouth, I knew it.
Kayla heard it too.
“This is why I didn’t call you.”
I lowered my voice.
“You’re right.”
She sniffed.
“I’m not trying to turn on Mom.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“It kind of sounds like you are.”
“I’m asking you to tell me if someone has financial documents in my name.”
“She’s our mother.”
“I know exactly who she is.”
The words came out harder than I intended.
Kayla stopped speaking.
I looked toward the guest room.
Emily was sleeping behind that door because she had been afraid to return to her own home.
My anger had direction now, and that made it more dangerous.
“Listen to me,” I said.
“Don’t touch anything.”
“What?”
May you like
“Don’t search her room.”
“You just told me to look.”
