Chapter 5
I saved Marcus's voicemail.
Then I listened to it again.
And again.
Each time, the words sounded worse.
Don't expect your mother to protect you.
For eighteen years, I'd believed Marcus was strict because he cared.
He checked my phone.
Controlled my friendships.
Demanded perfect grades.
Decided which relatives I could visit.
Whenever I complained, Mom said, "He's only trying to help."
Now I wondered how much of my childhood had been shaped by fear.
Angela listened to the voicemail.
Then looked at me.
"Maya, do you feel threatened?"
I swallowed.
"Yes."
She nodded.
"Then we need to take that seriously."
Arthur reached for my hand.
"You don't have to go back there."
My eyes filled.
"But my clothes are there."
"We'll arrange to collect them safely."
"My laptop."
"We'll get it."
"My mother's photographs."
Arthur's expression softened.
"We'll make sure you can recover your belongings."
I nodded.
For the first time, I understood that leaving a home could be both terrifying and necessary.
That evening, I called Mom.
She answered immediately.
"Maya!"
Her voice shook.
"Thank God."
I swallowed.
"Mom, why is Marcus threatening me?"
She went quiet.
Then whispered, "He's upset."
I closed my eyes.
"That's not an answer."
She sighed.
"Maya, your stepfather has done so much for us."
I stared at the wall.
"With my money?"
Silence.
I felt sick.
"Mom?"
She began crying.
"Please don't say things you don't understand."
I took a breath.
"Then help me understand."
She was quiet.
I continued.
"Did you know about the transfers?"
A long pause.
Then she whispered, "Some of them."
My chest tightened.
"How many?"
She began crying harder.
"I don't know."
I shook my head.
"Mom, please."
She exhaled shakily.
"Marcus handled the finances."
I felt anger rising.
"You were my mother."
Her voice broke.
"I know."
"You were supposed to protect me."
She started sobbing.
For a moment, I felt guilty.
Then I remembered all the times I'd cried because she told me Arthur didn't care.
I swallowed.
"Did you know Dad was trying to visit?"
Silence.
"Mom?"
She whispered, "Yes."
I closed my eyes.
The room seemed to tilt.
"Did you hide his letters?"
She began crying.
"Marcus thought it was best."
I laughed bitterly.
"Best for whom?"
She didn't answer.
I pressed my hand against my chest.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to ask why she'd let another man decide whether I could know my own father.
But I was exhausted.
So I asked one final question.
"Mom, did you ever tell Dad that I wanted him to stop contacting me?"
Her breathing changed.
Then she whispered, "Yes."
I started crying.
"Why?"
She sobbed.
"I was afraid you'd love him more than me."
I couldn't speak.
For years, I'd believed I was the problem.
That my father abandoned me because I wasn't worth staying for.
Now I was hearing that my mother had kept us apart because she was afraid of losing my love.
I wiped my cheeks.
"Mom, loving Dad wouldn't have made me stop loving you."
She cried harder.
"I know that now."
I closed my eyes.
"But you didn't trust me enough to let me choose."
Silence.
Then I whispered, "I need time."
She nodded through tears.
"I understand."
I ended the call.
Then I sat on the floor beside my bed.
I cried until my chest hurt.
Arthur found me there.
He knelt beside me.
"Maya?"
I looked up.
"She admitted it."
His expression changed.
"What?"
"She told you I didn't want you."
Arthur closed his eyes.
For a long moment, he didn't speak.
Then he sat beside me.
I leaned against him.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
I wiped my face.
"She was afraid I'd love you more."
Arthur looked toward the window.
Then he said something that surprised me.
"Love isn't a competition."
I looked at him.
He continued.
"You can love your mother and still love me."
My throat tightened.
"And you can be angry with someone you love."
I nodded.
He kissed the top of my head.
"You don't have to choose how you feel tonight."
I started crying again.
But this time, the tears felt different.
I wasn't alone.
The next morning, Arthur took me to collect my belongings.
Angela had arranged for a neutral family representative to accompany us.
Marcus wasn't supposed to be there.
But when we arrived, his cream-colored car was parked in the driveway.
My stomach dropped.
Arthur noticed.
"We can leave."
I shook my head.
"I want my things."
He nodded.
"Then we'll do this carefully."
We entered the house.
Mom stood near the staircase.
Her eyes were swollen.
Marcus leaned against the kitchen island.
He looked furious.
"So the prodigal daughter returns."
I didn't answer.
I walked toward the stairs.
He stepped into my path.
"Not so fast."
Arthur moved closer.
"Marcus, let her collect her belongings."
My stepfather laughed.
"This is my house."
I looked at him.
"Then you shouldn't need my money to keep it."
His face changed.
For a moment, I thought he might grab me.
Arthur stepped between us.
The neutral representative asked Marcus to move away.
After a tense silence, he did.
I hurried upstairs.
My room looked exactly as I'd left it.
The blue curtains.
The desk.
The graduation decorations.
The photograph of Grandma Ruth.
I packed my clothes quickly.
Then opened the closet.
My old childhood memory box was gone.
I froze.
"Mom?"
She appeared in the doorway.
"What?"
"Where's my box?"
She looked confused.
"What box?"
"The wooden one Grandma Ruth gave me."
Her face changed.
I noticed immediately.
"Mom?"
She swallowed.
"Marcus moved some things."
My stomach tightened.
"What things?"
She looked toward the hallway.
Then whispered, "Anything involving Arthur."
I stared at her.
The box contained birthday cards.
Old photographs.
And a necklace Grandma Ruth said had belonged to Arthur's mother.
I felt cold.
"Where did he put it?"
Mom hesitated.
"His office."
I looked at Arthur.
He stood behind her.
His expression changed.
We walked downstairs together.
Marcus immediately stepped forward.
"Nobody goes into my office."
I looked at him.
"Then give me my box."
He crossed his arms.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Mom suddenly spoke.
"Marcus, stop."
He turned.
"What?"
Her voice shook.
"Give Maya her belongings."
For the first time, she was standing up to him.
Marcus stared at her.
Then laughed.
"You've lost your mind."
He reached into his pocket.
Pulled out his office key.
And threw it onto the floor.
"Fine."
I bent to pick it up.
Then looked at him.
His expression was cold.
I walked toward the office.
But when I opened the door, I stopped.
The desk drawers were open.
Folders lay scattered across the floor.
And the small wooden box sat beside a shredder.
Its lid was broken.
My heart stopped.
I rushed toward it.
Inside were torn photographs.
Damaged birthday cards.
And a single envelope with Arthur's name written across the front.
I picked it up.
The paper was old.
The seal was broken.
I opened it.
Inside was a letter from Grandma Ruth.
The date was twelve years earlier.
I read the first line.
Then looked toward Mom.
May you like
Because Grandma had written something neither Arthur nor I knew.
Something that explained why Marcus had been so desperate to keep us apart.
