Chapter 2
I caught the edge of the second document before Denise could grab it.
She stopped beside the kitchen doorway.
"Marcus, please."
I ignored her.
My hands were trembling so badly that the paper rattled.
The document was titled:
TEMPORARY CARE AND EDUCATIONAL RESIDENCY AGREEMENT.
Beneath it was my daughter's name.
Maya Bennett.
Age sixteen.
And a proposed transfer to a residential program in North Carolina.
I looked up.
"What is this?"
Maya stepped closer.
Her face went pale.
"Dad?"
I held the document where she could see the heading.
"Did you know about this?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Denise suddenly spoke.
"It's a school."
I turned.
"What?"
"A private school. A good one."
I stared at her.
"You were planning to send my daughter away?"
Denise shook her head.
"I was exploring options."
"Without telling me?"
She folded her arms.
"You've been too busy to listen."
I felt my chest tighten.
For the last six months, I'd been managing a major construction project in Atlanta.
Long hours.
Early mornings.
Weekend meetings.
Denise had complained that I wasn't home enough.
I'd believed our marriage was simply going through a difficult season.
Now I wondered what she'd been doing while I was working.
I looked at the document again.
The proposed start date was only three weeks away.
My stomach dropped.
"Three weeks?"
Maya covered her mouth.
Denise stepped forward.
"Marcus, she's been difficult."
I stared at my wife.
"Difficult?"
"She argues. She refuses to respect me. She tells your mother everything."
Maya's eyes filled with tears.
"Because you keep lying!"
Denise pointed at her.
"See? Exactly what I'm talking about."
I stepped between them.
"Stop."
My voice was quiet.
But Denise finally stopped talking.
I turned toward Maya.
"Sweetheart, come here."
She approached slowly.
I put my arm around her shoulders.
"Nobody is sending you anywhere without us discussing it and making decisions properly."
Her face crumpled.
"You promise?"
The question nearly broke me.
"Yes."
She hugged me.
I held her for several seconds.
Then she whispered into my shirt.
"She said you already signed."
My stomach tightened.
I looked down.
"What?"
Maya pulled away.
"She said you wanted me gone."
I felt the room tilt.
Denise shook her head.
"That's not what I said."
Maya turned toward her.
"Yes, it is!"
My daughter was crying now.
"You told me Dad was tired of dealing with me!"
I stared at Denise.
She looked away.
I thought about the last few months.
Maya spending more time in her bedroom.
Maya asking whether I was proud of her.
Maya apologizing for little things that didn't require apologies.
I had been so tired after work that I accepted her quietness without asking enough questions.
And suddenly, I hated that.
My mother touched my hand.
"Marcus, sit down."
I looked at her.
She appeared exhausted.
I pulled out a chair.
"Mom, how long have you known about these papers?"
She lowered her eyes.
"Only since yesterday."
Maya wiped her cheeks.
"I found them when Denise told me to clean her office."
I turned toward her.
"Why were you cleaning her office?"
Maya hesitated.
Denise interrupted.
"Because children need chores."
I raised my hand.
"Maya can answer."
My daughter took a breath.
"She said if I wanted to go to my friend's birthday party, I had to organize everything in her office first."
I frowned.
"Everything?"
"Files. Drawers. Cabinets."
Maya looked toward Denise.
"She made me move boxes from behind her desk."
"And that's when you found the envelope?"
Maya nodded.
"It fell out of a folder."
I took a slow breath.
"What made you open it?"
"My name was written on one of the papers sticking out."
She looked embarrassed.
"I know I shouldn't have gone through her things."
I shook my head.
"We can talk about privacy later. Right now, I'm glad you told someone."
Maya nodded.
Then my mother spoke.
"She came straight to me."
I turned toward Mom.
"Why didn't you call me?"
Her eyes filled.
"Because I wasn't sure what was happening."
She looked toward Denise.
"And because your wife has been telling me my memory is failing."
I felt cold.
"What do you mean?"
Mom swallowed.
"She says I forget things."
Denise sighed.
"Evelyn, you do."
My mother looked down.
"Sometimes I misplace my glasses. Sometimes I forget why I walked into a room."
Her voice broke.
"But I remember where my money goes."
I moved beside her.
"Of course you do."
She shook her head.
"Denise kept saying I was becoming confused."
I looked at my wife.
"For how long?"
Denise didn't answer.
I turned back to Mom.
"How long?"
"Months."
My stomach tightened.
Mom continued.
"She told me maybe I should stop managing my own bank account."
I felt sick.
"Did you agree?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Then she whispered, "But I started wondering whether she was right."
I closed my eyes.
My mother had been made to doubt herself.
And the guardianship petition suddenly explained why.
I looked at Denise.
"You were trying to have my mother declared incapable of managing her own money."
She shook her head.
"That's not fair."
"Then explain the petition."
She crossed her arms.
"I was protecting her."
"From what?"
"From herself!"
My mother flinched.
I felt anger rise.
But I forced myself to breathe.
I couldn't solve this by shouting.
I needed facts.
I picked up the photograph.
"Who's the man?"
Denise looked away.
"A consultant."
"What kind?"
"Financial."
"Name?"
She hesitated.
"Raymond."
I stared at her.
"Raymond what?"
"Raymond Ellis."
I took out my phone.
"What's his company?"
Denise stepped forward.
"Marcus, don't."
I looked at her.
"Why?"
She began crying.
"Because you're going to ruin everything."
I felt my jaw tighten.
"What exactly are you afraid I'll discover?"
She didn't answer.
Then Maya spoke quietly.
"Dad, I know something about Raymond."
I turned.
My daughter was staring at the floor.
"What?"
She swallowed.
"He comes here when you're at work."
I went completely still.
"How often?"
Maya hesitated.
"Almost every Tuesday."
I looked toward Denise.
Her face had drained of color.
May you like
Then Maya added something that changed the entire room.
"And sometimes he sleeps in your bedroom."
