CHAP 2 — What They Did While I Worked
My mother and sisters had moved in “temporarily” four months earlier.
That was the word Darlene used.
Temporary.
Her landlord had raised rent. Brooke had lost her job at a nail salon after “drama.” Tessa was between apartments. Erin needed “a safe place to reset.” My mother cried on the phone and said family was all she had.
Hannah was five months pregnant then.
I should have said no.
Instead, I said, “Just for a couple weeks.”
A couple weeks became a month.
A month became four.
The couch became Darlene’s throne. The second bedroom we had begun clearing for the baby became storage for my sisters’ clothes, makeup bins, boxes, and complaints. Our grocery bill doubled. Then tripled. My mother said her prescriptions were expensive. My sisters said phone service was necessary for job hunting.
I paid.
Because I thought helping family was what a man did.
Because I was raised to believe a good son never let his mother struggle.
Because I did not see what that belief was costing my wife.
Hannah tried to tell me in small ways.
“She leaves dishes for me.”
“They order food on your card.”
“Your mom gets upset when I sit too long.”
Every time, I was tired.
Every time, I said something weak.
“I’ll talk to them.”
“Just ignore them.”
“It’s only temporary.”
Temporary became the word I used to excuse permanent disrespect.
Now Hannah stood in front of me crying over a sink.
“They wait until you leave,” she whispered. “Your mom says if I loved you, I’d help keep peace. Brooke tells me I’m lazy. Tessa records me when I cry. Erin says I trapped you with the baby.”
My hand tightened around hers.
“What savings?”
Her face collapsed.
“The baby account.”
My chest went hollow.
We had opened that account together.
Hospital deductible. Emergency rent. Car seat. Formula. Anything our son might need.
“How much?”
She looked down.
“Almost all of it.”
I stepped back like she had hit me.
“No. I check the balance.”
“They delete the bank alerts from your tablet. Your mom has your old debit card. She said you gave it to her for emergencies.”
I had.
One time.
For groceries.
Months ago.
Hannah continued, voice shaking.
“They took cash withdrawals. Delivery food. Clothes. Hair appointments. Phone accessories. Your mom said if I told you, she’d say I was trying to turn you against your family.”
The kitchen seemed to tilt.
From the living room, Darlene called, “Marcus, tell your wife to hurry up with those dishes. I need my tea.”
Hannah flinched.
That flinch ended something in me.
Not love for my mother.
Something older.
Fear of disappointing her.
I kissed Hannah’s forehead.
“Sit down.”
“She’ll get mad.”
“She can get homeless.”
Hannah stared at me.
I walked into the living room and picked up the remote.
The television went black.
All four women looked at me like I had insulted royalty.
Darlene frowned.
“What is your problem?”
May you like
I pointed at the door.
“You are.”
