Chapter 5
The first time I heard Claire call me manipulative, I was sitting in my own living room.
She wasn't speaking directly to me.
She was speaking through her attorney.
Dad had received a letter describing her version of what happened.
The letter claimed that I had created tension in the household.
That I demanded excessive attention.
That Claire had struggled to manage my behavior.
And that the disagreement over my championship was only one example of a much larger problem.
I stared at Dad as he explained it.
"She said that about me?"
His expression was devastated.
"Yes."
My throat tightened.
"Do you believe her?"
He immediately shook his head.
"No."
I looked down.
"Then why does she keep saying it?"
Dad took a deep breath.
"Because sometimes people try to justify their choices by blaming someone else."
I swallowed.
"But I didn't do anything."
"I know."
I started crying.
Dad hugged me.
He kept repeating the same words.
"I know, baby. I know."
But I couldn't stop thinking about Claire's accusations.
What if other adults believed her?
What if people at school heard?
What if my friends thought I had ruined Dad's marriage?
That afternoon, I went to soccer practice.
I tried to concentrate.
But every time I missed a pass, my chest tightened.
Every time Coach Daniels called my name, I flinched.
Finally, she asked me to sit beside her.
"Nia, what's happening?"
I stared at my cleats.
"Nothing."
She waited.
Then I whispered, "Do you think I'm difficult?"
Coach frowned.
"What?"
I looked up.
"Do you think I ask for too much?"
She became serious.
"Nia, where is this coming from?"
I started crying.
She moved closer.
I told her about the letter.
About Claire saying I caused problems.
About the boarding school application.
Coach listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she looked directly at me.
"Wanting your family to support you isn't being difficult."
I wiped my eyes.
"Really?"
"Really."
She continued.
"And being upset when someone breaks a promise doesn't make you manipulative."
I nodded.
Then she said something that stayed with me.
"You are allowed to have feelings, Nia. You are not responsible for making every adult comfortable."
I cried harder.
Coach called Dad afterward.
They spoke privately.
That evening, he asked whether I would be willing to meet with a counselor.
At first, I panicked.
"Because Claire said I have problems?"
Dad's face changed.
"No, sweetheart."
He sat beside me.
"Because you've been hurt."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"Talking to someone might help you understand that what happened wasn't your fault."
I nodded slowly.
"Will you come with me?"
He smiled.
"Every time you want me there."
The following week, I met Dr. Renee Foster.
She was kind.
She had a soft voice.
And her office contained a small shelf filled with games, books, and art supplies.
She didn't ask me to tell my whole story immediately.
Instead, she asked what made me feel safe.
I thought about it.
Then answered.
"Soccer."
She smiled.
"What else?"
I hesitated.
"Dad."
"Anyone else?"
"Lily."
She nodded.
"And what makes you feel unsafe?"
My hands tightened.
I whispered, "When adults get angry and say everything is my fault."
Dr. Foster didn't look surprised.
She simply nodded.
"That sounds frightening."
I began crying.
For some reason, hearing an adult say my feelings made sense was almost overwhelming.
Over the following weeks, we talked about boundaries.
Trust.
Grief.
And how much I still missed my mother.
Dr. Foster helped me understand that I didn't have to earn love by being perfect.
That was difficult to believe.
For years, I had tried so hard not to disappoint anyone.
But slowly, I began practicing something new.
Telling the truth about how I felt.
One evening, Dad asked whether I wanted to attend a family dinner with some of his friends.
I was exhausted after practice.
Usually, I would have said yes because I didn't want him upset.
This time, I took a breath.
"Could we stay home instead?"
Dad smiled.
"Of course."
I stared at him.
"You're not mad?"
He looked surprised.
"Why would I be?"
I shrugged.
"Claire used to get mad when plans changed."
His expression softened.
"Nia, you can tell me what you need."
I nodded.
Then smiled.
It was a small moment.
But it felt important.
Meanwhile, Lily was struggling too.
She spent weekends with Claire under an arrangement made by the adults.
When she returned, she sometimes seemed quiet.
One Sunday evening, she entered my room.
I was reading.
She sat on my bed.
"Nia?"
"Yeah?"
"Mom says you don't like her anymore."
I looked at her.
"I don't like what she did."
Lily nodded.
"She says Dad is trying to turn us against her."
My stomach tightened.
I put down my book.
"Lily, you don't have to choose between loving your mom and loving us."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Really?"
"Really."
She leaned against me.
"I wish everyone could just be happy."
I hugged her.
"Me too."
Then she whispered something surprising.
"Mom asked me to say you were mean to me."
I froze.
"What?"
Lily looked terrified.
"She asked if you ever yelled at me."
I swallowed.
"Did you tell her?"
"I said sometimes we argue."
I nodded.
That was true.
We were sisters.
Sometimes we argued over the television.
Sometimes she borrowed my things without asking.
Sometimes I got annoyed.
But I had never tried to hurt her.
Lily began crying.
"Then Mom said I should tell the lawyer."
My heart pounded.
I took her hand.
"Lily, you should always tell the truth."
She nodded.
"But what if Mom gets mad?"
I didn't know what to say.
So I told her something Dad had been telling me.
"You're not responsible for fixing adult problems."
She looked at me.
"Promise?"
I nodded.
"Promise."
I told Dad what Lily had said.
He contacted Angela.
She advised him to document the concern and follow the appropriate family court procedures.
He also arranged counseling support for Lily.
I was relieved.
Because Lily was only ten.
She shouldn't have been carrying her mother's anger.
A month later, Dad attended my first game of the new season.
I saw him standing beside the field before warmups.
He wore jeans and a dark jacket.
He held two folding chairs.
One for himself.
One for Lily.
When I spotted them, my heart leaped.
Dad waved.
Lily jumped up and down.
"GO, NIA!"
I laughed.
For the first time in a long while, soccer felt simple again.
I ran.
Passed.
Defended.
And scored once.
When the game ended, Dad rushed toward me.
He hugged me so tightly that I nearly dropped my water bottle.
"You were amazing!"
I grinned.
"You saw?"
He laughed.
"Every second."
Lily held up a homemade sign.
"NIA IS NUMBER ONE!"
I started crying.
But this time, they were happy tears.
Dad noticed.
He wiped my cheek.
"What's wrong, baby?"
I smiled.
"Nothing."
Then I hugged him again.
"You're here."
His eyes filled with tears.
"Yes."
He kissed my forehead.
"And I plan to keep showing up."
That night, we celebrated with pizza.
Lily insisted on choosing the movie.
I complained.
Dad laughed.
For a few hours, we were just a family.
Then his phone rang.
Angela.
He stepped into the kitchen.
When he returned, his expression was serious.
I looked up.
"What happened?"
He sat beside me.
"Claire's attorney has submitted additional documents."
My stomach tightened.
"What documents?"
He took a slow breath.
"Messages between Claire and Vanessa."
I stared at him.
Then he continued.
"Some of them show they were discussing how to make you appear difficult before the boarding school application."
I felt cold.
May you like
Because suddenly, Dad had something stronger than my memories.
He had proof.
