Chapter 2
The next morning, Charisse barely spoke to me.
That was unusual.
Charisse liked arguments.
Not loud ones.
Controlled ones.
She liked choosing her words carefully until the person across from her started wondering whether they had imagined the entire problem.
But that morning she moved around the kitchen in silence.
Jalisa sat at the counter.
Amara came downstairs wearing jeans and an old purple sweatshirt.
The moment she saw Charisse, her shoulders tightened.
I noticed.
I hated that I noticed only now.
“Morning.”
Amara looked at me.
“Morning, Daddy.”
Jalisa turned toward her.
“Amara.”
Amara stopped.
Jalisa looked uncomfortable.
“I didn’t know.”
Amara nodded.
“It’s okay.”
“No.”
Jalisa swallowed.
“It isn’t.”
Charisse slammed a cabinet harder than necessary.
“Can we not turn breakfast into a confession?”
Jalisa looked at her mother.
“I’m apologizing.”
“For something you didn’t do?”
“For driving around in a car paid for with her money.”
Charisse spun around.
“It was a deposit.”
“Same difference.”
“It is not.”
I stepped in.
“Enough.”
Charisse looked at me.
“You started this.”
“No. I ended the secrecy.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Whatever.”
Amara reached for a bowl.
Then stopped.
“Daddy, can we go to the camera store today?”
The question changed the entire room.
I smiled.
“Yes.”
Her face lit up.
Jalisa smiled too.
“I want to come.”
Amara hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
Charisse stared at her daughter.
“You have somewhere to be.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You told me you were meeting Kiara.”
“I canceled.”
“Why?”
Jalisa looked at Amara.
“I want to help her pick the camera.”
Charisse’s expression hardened.
But she said nothing.
That afternoon, we drove to the electronics store.
Amara had researched cameras for months.
She knew model numbers.
Lens sizes.
Battery life.
Sensor types.
She spoke with a confidence I rarely heard at home.
The salesman barely had to explain anything.
At one point, he laughed.
“You know more about this camera than some employees.”
Amara smiled.
I watched her hold the display model.
The way she adjusted the lens.
The way her fingers moved carefully over the controls.
She looked happy.
Not excited in the loud way teenagers sometimes are.
Focused.
Certain.
“This one.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-seven hundred with the starter lens.”
I nodded.
“Then get it.”
Her face changed.
“You sure?”
“It’s your money.”
She looked down.
“That feels weird now.”
That broke my heart.
“What feels weird?”
“Spending it.”
“You saved it for this.”
“I know.”
She looked at the camera.
“What if something happens again?”
Nothing in that store mattered after that sentence.
I crouched slightly so we were eye level.
“Nothing is happening to that account.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
“Like really promise?”
“Really.”
Jalisa turned away.
I think she was trying not to cry.
Amara bought the camera.
She kept $300.
The receipt went into her backpack.
On the drive home, she photographed everything.
Traffic lights.
A man walking his dog.
Clouds.
Jalisa laughing.
Me pretending to look serious at a red light.
For the first time in days, the tension faded.
Then we reached home.
Charisse was waiting.
The moment Amara walked in with the camera box, Charisse looked at me.
“You let her spend all that money?”
Amara’s smile disappeared.
I felt anger rise instantly.
“She saved for it.”
“That doesn’t mean she has to blow three thousand dollars.”
“She spent twenty-seven hundred.”
“That is insane.”
Jalisa stepped forward.
“Mama.”
“No.”
Charisse pointed at the box.
“This family has bills.”
I laughed once.
I couldn’t help it.
“Whose bills?”
She looked at me.
“Our bills.”
“The mortgage is paid.”
“I know.”
“Utilities are paid.”
“Yes.”
“Food is covered.”
“Desmond—”
“So which bill did you expect Amara’s camera money to pay?”
Her mouth closed.
Jalisa took Amara’s arm.
“Come on.”
They went upstairs.
I waited until they disappeared.
Then I looked at Charisse.
“You need to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Making Amara feel guilty for owning anything.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“She was afraid to spend her own money.”
“She’s a child.”
“Exactly.”
Charisse folded her arms.
“She needs to understand money doesn’t grow on trees.”
“She saved for two years.”
“So?”
“So she understands money better than most adults.”
Her face hardened.
“You mean better than me.”
I said nothing.
That answer was enough.
Charisse walked toward the refrigerator.
“You made me look like a thief in front of Jalisa.”
“You took money without permission.”
“I am your wife.”
“That doesn’t make Amara’s account yours.”
“You keep saying ‘Amara’s.’”
“Because it was hers.”
“There you go again.”
I frowned.
“Again?”
“Everything is hers.”
“What are you talking about?”
Charisse turned.
“This house.”
I stared at her.
“What about it?”
“You told me once you planned to leave it to Amara.”
“Yes.”
“And what about Jalisa?”
“Jalisa is twenty-two.”
“So?”
“She has you. She has her father.”
“Her father does nothing.”
“That doesn’t make my daughter responsible.”
Charisse laughed.
“See?”
“What?”
“You divide us.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You do.”
Her face changed.
“You’ve spent years keeping a scoreboard.”
“That is ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
I started thinking.
Every birthday.
Every school expense.
Every time I bought Amara something.
Charisse always asked what Jalisa was getting.
When Amara needed braces, Charisse complained that Jalisa had never gotten braces.
When I paid for Amara’s summer photography camp, Charisse insisted I help Jalisa pay for a beach trip.
I had called it blending families.
Fairness.
Compromise.
Now I wondered if I had simply trained Charisse to expect access to anything meant for Amara.
That night, I checked my bank accounts.
Not because I suspected another theft.
Because I suddenly realized I had trusted too much.
Joint checking looked normal.
Joint savings looked normal.
Then I checked the college account I had opened for Amara when she was born.
I stared at the screen.
There had been a withdrawal.
Not recent.
Eight months earlier.
$5,000.
I stopped breathing.
I opened the transaction details.
TRANSFER TO JOINT SAVINGS.
I checked joint savings.
That same week, $5,000 had left the account.
PAYMENT — LAFAYETTE COMMUNITY COLLEGE.
Jalisa.
I sat completely still.
Jalisa had taken classes the previous year.
Charisse had told me her mother had helped cover tuition.
Her mother.
My hand started shaking.
I printed both statements.
Then I checked older transactions.
Two thousand dollars from Amara’s education account.
Three years ago.
Transferred.
Then used for a medical bill.
Not Amara’s.
Charisse’s.
Another $1,200.
Used toward Jalisa’s laptop.
I stared at the numbers.
This wasn’t one bad decision.
This was a pattern.
And I had missed it because Charisse moved money through accounts I trusted her to manage.
I heard footsteps.
Jalisa stood in the doorway.
She looked at the papers.
“What’s wrong?”
I didn’t want to tell her.
But she saw the tuition payment.
Her face changed.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“Did your mother tell you who paid your tuition?”
“My grandma.”
I said nothing.
Jalisa moved closer.
“Oh my God.”
Her hands covered her mouth.
“She told me Grandma sent it.”
“I don’t think she did.”
Jalisa sat down.
“She bought my laptop too.”
I slid the older statement toward her.
She read it.
Then started crying.
“This is Amara’s college money.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
She shook her head.
“I swear.”
“I believe you.”
Jalisa looked toward the hallway.
“She’s been using Amara’s money for me.”
“Some of it.”
“For years.”
I felt something cold settle inside me.
“Yes.”
Jalisa wiped her face.
Then she said the last thing I expected.
“You need to check my account too.”
I frowned.
“What account?”
“The savings Grandma actually did give me.”
My heart stopped.
“How much?”
“About eight thousand.”
“Where is it?”
“Mama manages it.”
We looked at each other.
May you like
Then Jalisa whispered,
“I haven’t checked the balance in almost a year.”
