Chương 10
“He said that part to my face.”
“He said you were using money to punish Mom.”
My jaw tightened.
“When?”
“After Christmas.”
“What happened after Christmas?”
Vanessa glanced at me.
“You really don't know?”
“No.”
She sighed.
“Mom asked you for money for the credit card.”
“Yes.”
“You said no.”
“Yes.”
“You also told her she needed to show you the statements if she wanted help.”
“I did.”
Vanessa nodded slowly.
“Dad told us you demanded access to their private finances because you wanted control.”
For a moment, I couldn't answer.
I remembered that conversation.
Mom had called me crying because she couldn't make the minimum payment.
She said the balance was around six thousand dollars.
When I asked how it had grown that large, she didn't know.
I offered to sit down with her and review the statements.
She stopped crying.
Then she became offended.
At the time, I assumed embarrassment had taken over.
“What did you think?” I asked.
Vanessa's shoulders lifted.
“I thought it sounded like you.”
That hurt.
She saw it.
“Not because you're controlling.”
She spoke quickly now.
“Because you're intense about money.”
“That's a nicer word.”
“I'm trying.”
“I can tell.”
She leaned back and looked toward the ceiling.
“I didn't question him.”
“Why would you?”
Her gaze came down.
“That isn't an excuse.”
“No.”
“No, it's not.”
She pressed her palms together.
“Dad has always had a version of everybody.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know.”
“I don't.”
She gave me an irritated look.
“You absolutely do.”
“Then say it.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Fine.”
“Mom is fragile.”
“Denise is dramatic.”
“Sarah is irresponsible because she married young.”
“Brandon is lazy because he works from home.”
“And I'm spoiled.”
She paused.
“And you're cold.”
I swallowed.
“That's my version?”
“That’s the one lately.”
“Lately?”
“Before that, you were the responsible one.”
Something in me went still.
Responsible.
Cold.
Same person.
Different usefulness.
Vanessa must have seen something change in my face because her voice softened.
“I didn't notice when it switched.”
“I did.”
She looked at me.
“I just didn't understand why.”
A horn sounded from somewhere outside, deep enough to vibrate faintly through the glass.
Vanessa stood and walked to the balcony.
I opened the door for her.
Warm air rolled into the room.
Below us, passengers were already leaving the ship for Nassau.
Taxis waited in rows beyond the terminal.
Vanessa leaned on the railing.
“I used to think Dad liked you better.”
I laughed once.
She turned.
“I’m serious.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You got praised for everything.”
“I got responsibilities.”
“Same thing when you're fifteen.”
That was fair enough that I didn't answer.
She stared down at the port.
“When I dropped out of school, Dad told me you said I was wasting my life.”
“I never said that.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because Sarah told me what you actually said.”
I waited.
Vanessa's mouth tightened.
“You said I sounded miserable.”
I remembered that.
Sarah and I had been standing in my kitchen while Vanessa cried in my bathroom during Thanksgiving.
I had said, She sounds miserable, and nobody seems interested in asking why.
“Dad told you I called you a failure?”
“Basically.”
“Why?”
Vanessa laughed without humor.
“Probably because I was easier to manage when I thought you were judging me.”
That sentence stayed between us.
I looked at the water.
A small pilot boat cut across the harbor, leaving a white scar that vanished almost immediately.
“What did he get from keeping us angry at each other?” I asked.
Vanessa shrugged.
“Maybe nothing.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“Not everything is a scheme, Millie.”
“I know.”
“He's not sitting in a basement making charts.”
“I didn't say he was.”
She looked at me.
“He just hates people comparing notes.”
That sounded more true.
Dad had always preferred one-on-one conversations.
He called instead of texting when money was involved.
He told Mom different versions of arguments.
He liked being the person who explained what somebody else meant.
Not because he was a mastermind.
Because being the interpreter gave him control without requiring him to admit he wanted it.
Vanessa turned away from the railing.
“Brandon says I owe you an apology.”
I blinked.
“He does?”
“Don't enjoy that too much.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“He also says I owe him one.”
“For what?”
She groaned.
“A different disaster.”
“Fair.”
She paced once across the balcony.
“He asked me last night why we all acted like you paying was normal.”
“What did you say?”
“That you make more money.”
I winced.
“So did he.”
She shook her head.
“He said that's not an answer.”
I leaned against the doorframe.
“Brandon is having a very productive cruise.”
“Apparently.”
Her mouth twitched.
Then the humor disappeared.
“I really did think you wanted to pay.”
“I did.”
“That’s the part I don't understand.”
“I wanted to give everyone something nice.”
“So why were you so angry when Dad said family only?”
I stared at her.
She lifted both hands.
“I know how that sounds.”
“Do you?”
“I mean if the cruise was a gift, then the gift was still a gift.”
I breathed out slowly.
“You're asking why the exclusion changed the gift.”
“Yes.”
I considered the question because, annoyingly, it was not completely stupid.
“When I offered to pay, I thought I was paying for time together.”
Vanessa said nothing.
“I thought the point was all of us going.”
“Okay.”
“So when you took me out, what was left?”
“The trip.”
“Exactly.”
She frowned.
I continued.
“You all got the destination, the dinners, the cabins, the drinks, the excursions.”
“And I got what?”
Her face changed.
I hated how exposed I felt saying it.
“Nothing.”
Vanessa looked back toward the harbor.
“That sounds pathetic.”
“I know.”
“I didn't mean you.”
“I know.”
She folded her arms.
“You spent twenty thousand dollars trying to make us like you.”
The sentence was cruel.
It was also close enough to the truth that I couldn't reject it.
May you like
“Maybe.”
She turned quickly.
