Chapter 4
Vanessa tried to leave the room.
Marcus stopped her with a question.
"Did you tell my mother I didn't want her here?"
She turned.
"Marcus, I'm exhausted."
"Answer me."
She looked toward the guests.
Then back at him.
"Sometimes."
I felt my stomach drop.
My son went very still.
"Sometimes?"
Vanessa raised her chin.
"You were working constantly. She kept trying to visit."
Marcus looked at me.
I wished he wouldn't.
I felt ashamed.
Not because I'd done anything wrong.
But because all those strangers had heard how desperately I'd wanted to see my son.
He took a breath.
"Mom called because she loves me."
Vanessa scoffed.
"She's obsessed with you."
My chest tightened.
Marcus stepped closer.
"Don't."
She folded her arms.
"You've never understood how difficult it is being married to someone whose mother thinks she still comes first."
I looked down.
I had never asked to come first.
I only wanted a place.
A small place.
A telephone call.
A holiday dinner.
Maybe a photograph on the mantel.
Was that so terrible?
Marcus turned toward the event coordinator.
"Please take my mother to the sitting room."
I immediately shook my head.
"Marcus, no."
He looked at me.
"I'm not sending you away."
His expression softened.
"I just don't want you standing here while Vanessa keeps insulting you."
I swallowed.
"Then come with me."
He hesitated.
I squeezed his hand.
"Please."
He nodded.
Daniel stepped forward.
"I'll handle the guests."
Marcus thanked him.
Then guided me toward a quiet sitting room overlooking the garden.
The music resumed faintly behind us.
But I could hear people whispering.
I knew this birthday would be remembered for the wrong reasons.
I sat beside the window.
Marcus closed the door.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
Then he turned toward me.
"Mama, tell me everything."
I looked away.
"There's nothing else."
He knelt in front of me.
"Please don't protect me from the truth anymore."
My eyes filled.
I stared at my hands.
They were older now.
The skin thinner.
The fingers marked by years of work.
When Marcus was little, those hands had braided his school-project strings, washed his uniforms, and counted coins for grocery money.
Now they trembled as I tried to explain why I'd stopped calling my own child.
"Vanessa told me I was making your marriage difficult."
Marcus shook his head.
"She said you needed space."
I swallowed.
"She said you were embarrassed by my clothes."
His face changed.
"What?"
I looked at my beige cardigan.
The cuffs were slightly worn.
I'd purchased it five years earlier.
It was still comfortable.
I liked it.
But Vanessa had called it shabby.
"She said your business friends would laugh if they saw me."
Marcus's eyes filled.
"Mama."
I continued.
"She said I should stop visiting until I could afford nicer things."
His face crumpled.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I whispered, "I tried to save."
He stared at me.
"What?"
I looked down.
"I wanted a new dress."
My voice broke.
"Something pretty enough for your parties."
Marcus began crying.
I reached for him automatically.
"Oh, baby."
He shook his head.
"Don't comfort me."
I froze.
He took my hands.
"I should be comforting you."
I couldn't answer.
He looked at my cardigan.
Then at my old suitcase.
"Mama, you raised me in a two-bedroom apartment."
I nodded.
"You worked yourself sick to make sure I had food."
Tears slid down his cheeks.
"And now somebody convinced you I was ashamed of you?"
I covered my mouth.
He leaned forward and hugged me.
I held him tightly.
For the first time in months, I let myself cry without trying to hide it.
Then Marcus whispered, "Never again."
I pulled back.
"What?"
"Nobody is going to make you feel unwelcome in my life again."
I wanted to believe him.
I really did.
But Vanessa was his wife.
And I knew how much he loved her.
I also remembered what happened whenever I tried to speak about her behavior.
He defended her.
Not cruelly.
Not deliberately.
But always enough to make me stop talking.
I took a breath.
"Marcus, I don't want your marriage to end because of me."
He shook his head.
"If my marriage ends, it will be because Vanessa chose to hurt people and lie about it."
I stared at him.
Then he said something that surprised me.
"This isn't the first thing I've noticed."
My stomach tightened.
"What do you mean?"
He looked toward the door.
"For months, Vanessa has been controlling who I see."
I frowned.
"Controlling?"
He nodded.
"She told Daniel I was too busy for our weekly basketball games."
I listened.
"She told my sister Renee that I didn't want her staying with us."
My heart tightened.
"Renee?"
Marcus nodded.
"She told my business partner I was too stressed to attend meetings outside work."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"I thought everybody was pulling away."
My breath caught.
The same thing had happened to us.
Each person believing the other wanted distance.
Marcus lowered his head.
"I was beginning to feel like Vanessa was the only person who understood me."
I felt a chill.
Then he looked up.
"Now I think she wanted it that way."
Before I could answer, someone knocked.
Daniel entered.
His expression was serious.
"Marcus, we need to talk."
My son stood.
"What happened?"
Daniel glanced at me.
Then back at Marcus.
"I checked the phone records you asked about."
My stomach tightened.
Marcus frowned.
"And?"
Daniel took a breath.
"There's a separate number Vanessa has been using."
My son stared at him.
"What number?"
Daniel hesitated.
"The account is connected to a company called Whitmore Family Services."
I didn't recognize the name.
But Marcus did.
His face changed instantly.
"That's impossible."
I looked between them.
"What is it?"
Marcus swallowed.
"That's the company that handles my mother's retirement account."
My hands went cold.
Because suddenly I remembered something else Vanessa had insisted on doing.
Six months earlier, she had offered to help me organize my savings.
May you like
I'd given her copies of my bank statements.
And now I wondered whether keeping me away from Marcus had been about more than his marriage.
