Chapter 2 - The Money My Father Had Already Given Her
For a moment, Vanessa didn't answer.
She stood beside the checkout counter holding the receipt so tightly that the paper began to wrinkle.
Dad waited.
I had never seen him look at her that way.
Usually, when he came home from work, he smiled the moment she entered the room.
He kissed her cheek.
Asked about her day.
Thanked her for looking after Noah and me.
But now his face looked different.
"Vanessa," he repeated, "where is Maya's clothing money?"
She laughed nervously.
"Marcus, we're standing in the middle of a store."
"Then answer the question so we can leave."
Several customers looked toward us.
I wanted to disappear.
I hated being the reason people were staring.
Even though I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, my stomach felt full of stones.
Vanessa lowered her voice.
"I used it for household expenses."
Dad frowned.
"What household expenses?"
"Groceries. Cleaning supplies. Things children need."
He looked toward the shopping bags.
"Did those household expenses include three pairs of sneakers for Noah?"
Her face reddened.
"He's growing."
"So is Maya."
Noah shifted beside the counter.
I looked at him.
For the first time, he seemed uncomfortable.
He stared down at the shoeboxes without speaking.
Dad turned toward the cashier.
"Excuse me. Are the shoes my daughter wanted still available?"
The cashier nodded immediately.
"Yes, sir."
"Could you please bring them?"
She hurried toward the clearance shelf.
Vanessa reached for Dad's arm.
"Marcus, you're making me look terrible."
He gently removed her hand.
"No. I'm asking why my daughter has been walking around in damaged shoes."
I looked at the floor.
My tears kept falling.
Dad noticed.
He crouched in front of me.
"Sweetheart, look at me."
I lifted my eyes.
"Have you asked Vanessa for shoes before today?"
I nodded.
"How many times?"
I hesitated.
Vanessa was watching me.
Dad followed my glance.
Then he quietly moved so that he stood between us.
"Maya, you can tell me."
My voice shook.
"Four times."
His face tightened.
"When?"
"Before school started. Then after the rainstorm. And twice this month."
Dad closed his eyes.
I suddenly remembered the rainy afternoon when my socks had become soaked.
I had spent the rest of the school day with cold feet.
My teacher, Mrs. Bennett, noticed me limping.
She asked whether I needed the nurse.
I told her I was fine.
I didn't want Vanessa finding out I'd complained.
Dad opened his eyes again.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I swallowed.
"Vanessa said you were already tired from working."
His jaw tightened.
"Did she tell you not to bother me?"
I nodded.
"She said good children don't ask for things their parents can't afford."
Dad looked devastated.
The cashier returned carrying the white sneakers with blue stripes.
She placed the box on a bench.
Dad helped me sit.
"Try them on, baby."
I hesitated.
Vanessa made a sharp sound.
"Marcus, this is ridiculous."
He turned toward her.
"What's ridiculous is that my daughter has been wearing shoes with the soles coming off."
I slipped one old sneaker off.
The inside was worn nearly flat.
A hole had formed beneath my big toe.
Dad stared at it.
His face changed.
I had never seen him look so sad.
"How long have you been walking on this?"
I shrugged.
He gently picked up the shoe.
The loose sole bent away from the fabric.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he put it down and helped me try on the new pair.
They fit perfectly.
I stood carefully.
The soles felt soft.
My toes didn't rub against the front.
I took three steps.
Then I looked at Dad.
"They're comfortable."
He smiled.
It was a sad smile.
"Good."
The cashier said the shoes were thirty-one dollars and ninety-nine cents before tax.
Dad paid with his personal debit card.
Then he asked for the old pair to be placed in a separate bag.
Vanessa frowned.
"Why are you keeping those?"
Dad looked at her.
"Because I want to remember what I failed to notice."
The words made my chest hurt.
I didn't want him blaming himself.
He had always worked hard.
He came to my school events whenever he could.
He read bedtime stories when I was younger.
He taught me how to ride a bicycle.
But lately, he had trusted Vanessa whenever she said everything at home was fine.
And I had been too frightened to tell him otherwise.
As we walked toward the parking lot, Dad held my hand.
Vanessa followed with Noah.
Nobody spoke.
At the car, Dad asked me to sit in the front passenger seat.
Vanessa stopped.
"That's my seat."
Dad looked at her.
"Not today."
Her mouth tightened.
I climbed inside.
Through the windshield, I watched Dad place the shopping bags in the trunk.
Then he turned toward Vanessa.
"We're going home. And we're going to talk."
She folded her arms.
"About shoes?"
Dad looked at her.
"About my daughter."
The drive home was silent.
I watched the trees pass.
My new shoes rested on the floor beside my feet.
I wanted to feel happy.
Instead, I felt frightened.
Vanessa had been angry before when I told Dad small things.
Once, after I mentioned missing a school trip, she refused to speak to me for two days.
Another time, she told me I was making our family miserable.
Now Dad had questioned her in public.
I couldn't imagine what she would say when we got home.
When we pulled into the driveway, Dad turned off the engine.
Then he looked at me.
"Maya, there's something I need to ask."
I nodded.
"Has Vanessa refused to buy you other things?"
My stomach tightened.
I thought about my winter coat.
My school supplies.
The birthday money Grandma Ruth had sent.
The twenty dollars Dad gave me for a field trip.
And the little blue envelope Vanessa took from my bedroom drawer.
I looked toward the back seat.
Vanessa was staring at me.
Dad noticed.
He spoke gently.
"Whatever you tell me, you are not in trouble."
Tears filled my eyes.
I whispered:
"She takes the money Grandma sends me."
Dad froze.
Then he asked a question that made Vanessa suddenly reach for the door handle.
"What money, Maya?"
I looked down at my hands.
"The money Grandma leaves in the blue envelopes."
May you like
Dad turned toward his wife.
"Vanessa, where is my mother's money?"
