Chương 9
My income dropped by a little over a thousand dollars a month.
Stephanie had hugged me at the kitchen table and said she and Clinton would send twelve hundred every month because they did not want me worrying.
I had cried.
I had thanked them.
I had told Ruth that my daughter was taking care of me.
The payments lasted for just under two years.
Then they stopped.
Stephanie said Clinton’s company had changed his compensation structure and money was tight.
By then, I had started covering more household expenses to help them through it.
I looked at the dates.
The first $1,200 deposit arrived exactly one month after the reimbursement clause became active.
The final deposit came the month before my monthly six-hundred-dollar transfers began.
I took out the legal pad.
Evelyn found a calculator.
We added the payments.
Twenty-four deposits.
Twenty-eight thousand eight hundred dollars.
Then I noticed three larger transfers.
Five thousand.
Five thousand.
Ten thousand.
All marked PROPERTY REIMBURSEMENT.
Total paid back to me: forty-eight thousand eight hundred dollars.
The remaining obligation, after another adjustment I did not yet understand, came close to the current balance.
“They weren’t helping me,” I said.
Evelyn said nothing.
“They were paying a debt.”
“Yes.”
“They let me thank them.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Yes.”
I stood up too quickly and the room tilted.
I gripped the back of the chair.
Evelyn moved toward me.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I mean I’m not fainting.”
“That’s a lower standard.”
I sat down again.
My chest hurt, but not in a way that frightened me medically.
It was the pressure of humiliation arriving late.
I could see myself at Stephanie’s kitchen table.
Holding the first deposit receipt.
Telling her she was a good daughter.
Her smiling.
Saying, “Of course, Mom.”
How many times had I thanked them for returning money they already owed me?
Worse, how much of that returned money had I later spent on their household?
I searched the dates again.
The internet payment began during the reimbursement period.
So did electricity.
Then water.
The money came into my account labeled vaguely enough that I had not understood its source, and some of it flowed right back out through bills.
“Maybe they thought that was easier,” Evelyn said.
I looked at her sharply.
She held up a hand.
“I’m not defending them.”
“It sounded like it.”
“I’m testing explanations.”
I hated her for five seconds.
Then I was grateful.
Someone needed to test explanations before I built a case out of anger.
“What explanation covers not telling me what the payments were?”
“None I like.”
“What explanation covers opening the notice?”
“None.”
“What explanation covers the fake renovation company?”
“We don’t know it was fake.”
“It used Wade’s address.”
“That makes it suspicious.”
“You sound like a lawyer.”
“I watched a lot of Judge Judy after retirement.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
Then the doorbell rang.
Evelyn looked at the clock.
Seven seventeen.
“Your forty-five minutes aren’t up.”
I stood.
She walked to the window and moved the curtain slightly.
“It’s Mason.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“He’s alone.”
I went to the door.
Mason stood on the porch in basketball shorts and a faded T-shirt, his backpack hanging from one shoulder.
At sixteen, he was already taller than Clinton.
His hair was damp with sweat.
He looked from me to Evelyn.
“Grandma, what’s going on?”
“Why are you here?”
“Mom told me you were staying here.”
“How did you get here?”
“I walked.”
“From Caleb’s?”
“It’s like twelve minutes.”
“It’s almost dark.”
“I’m not six.”
He stepped inside before either of us invited him.
That was pure Stephanie.
He dropped his backpack beside the door.
“Mom is freaking out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Dad’s boss is at the house and Mom keeps going into the laundry room to cry.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
The world did not separate cleanly into guilty adults and unaffected children.
Mason noticed the papers spread across the table.
“What happened?”
“Adult financial things.”
“That means something bad.”
“It means complicated.”
“Did Mom kick you out?”
I looked at him.
His face had changed.
The casual annoyance was gone.
“Who told you that?”
“Nobody.”
“Then why would you ask?”
He rubbed the side of his nose.
“Because I heard her yelling at Dad before they left for the store.”
“What did she say?”
He hesitated.
“She said if you found out about the lawyer letter, you’d leave.”
Evelyn and I looked at each other.
My mouth went dry.
“When was this?”
“This morning.”
“What exactly did she say?”
He shifted his backpack with his foot.
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Mason.”
“I was upstairs.”
“What did you hear?”
He stared at the floor.
“She said, ‘If Mom sees that letter before we fix it, she’ll know everything and she’ll leave.’”
The room went very still.
“What did your father say?”
“That you wouldn’t understand the paperwork anyway.”
He looked at me quickly.
“I’m not saying that.”
“I know.”
“He said they just needed more time.”
“Time for what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did they mention money?”
He nodded.
“Dad said Wade screwed them.”
There it was.
Not proof.
But another piece.
“What else?”
“That’s all.”
He looked toward the table again.
“Grandma, are you leaving?”
The question was so young that for a second he was not sixteen anymore.
He was six, standing in my kitchen after Donald’s funeral, asking whether Grandpa knew how to get home from heaven.
“I’m staying here tonight.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“I don’t know yet.”
His jaw tightened.
“Everybody keeps saying that.”
I almost reached for him.
Then stopped.
He was angry.
Touching him because I needed comfort would have been for me, not him.
“Your mother and I have things to sort out.”
“Because of money?”
“Partly.”
He gave a bitter little laugh.
“It’s always money.”
“What does that mean?”
He shrugged.
“Mason.”
“Dad’s been weird for months.”
“How?”
May you like
“Checking the bank app all the time.”
He glanced at Evelyn, then back at me.
