Chapter 5: The Blue Notebook
I was already at the table when Vanessa came downstairs.
She was dressed.
Hair done.
Moving with the kind of careful composure that people put on when they know a conversation is coming and they want to meet it from a position of control.
She poured coffee without looking at me.
"The children have school," she said.
"I know."
"This isn't the time to—"
"I'm not doing anything right now," I said.
"I'm having coffee."
She sat across from me.
Wrapped both hands around her mug.
We sat like that for a moment.
The house was quiet.
The children were still upstairs.
"Last night you said I don't know everything yet," I said.
"What did you mean?"
She looked at me over the rim of her mug.
"I meant that Nia is not as innocent as you're making her out to be."
"She's thirteen."
"She's been telling people things about me.
About this family.
Things that aren't true."
"What people?"
"Her teacher.
Mrs.
Aldridge.
Nia told her that I was cruel to her.
That I singled her out.
Mrs.
Aldridge called me in November." Vanessa set her mug down.
"I handled it.
I explained that Nia had been struggling emotionally and that she sometimes exaggerated to get attention.
Mrs.
Aldridge accepted that."
My coffee was getting cold.
"So Nia told her teacher," I said.
"And you told the teacher Nia was lying."
"I told the teacher the full picture."
"The full picture being that a child asking for help was exaggerating for attention."
"Marcus—"
"Did you tell me?
In November?
Did you mention that Nia had spoken to her teacher about how she was being treated at home?"
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
"I didn't want to upset you while you were traveling."
"You didn't want me to know."
Footsteps on the stairs.
We both stopped.
Nia came into the kitchen in her school uniform, backpack over one shoulder.
She looked at both of us.
Read the room the way children who have grown up in tense houses learn to read rooms.
"Morning," she said carefully.
"Morning, sweetheart." I stood.
"Sit down.
I'll make you breakfast."
She sat.
She watched Vanessa.
Vanessa looked at her mug.
I made eggs and toast and set them in front of Nia.
She ate.
Caleb came down next, then Ava.
I made breakfast for all three.
Vanessa did not move from her seat.
When the children had their coats on and their bags by the door, I crouched down in front of Nia.
"That blue notebook," I said quietly.
"The one that was on the counter in the kitchen.
Do you still have it?"
Her eyes changed.
"How do you know about that?"
"Ava's photos.
I saw it in the background."
She looked at Vanessa, who was still at the table with her back to us.
Then she unzipped her backpack.
The notebook was inside.
She had been carrying it to school.
She held it out to me.
"I wrote things down," she said.
"Dates.
What happened.
What she said.
I didn't know why I was doing it.
I just felt like I should."
My hand closed around the notebook.
Thirteen years old.
Writing things down because some instinct told her to.
Because some part of her knew that one day she might need someone to believe her, and she was not sure words alone would be enough.
"Go to school," I said.
"I'll be here when you get back."
She nodded.
Hugged me quickly.
Then she was out the door with Caleb and Ava.
I stood in the kitchen with the notebook in my hand.
Vanessa had turned around in her chair.
She was looking at the notebook.
Her expression was the most unguarded it had been since I walked through the door the night before.
Not angry.
Not composed.
Afraid.
"That's private," she said.
"It's Nia's."
"It's full of lies."
I opened the cover.
The first entry was dated fourteen months ago.
The handwriting was small and careful.
A child trying to be precise.
Dad left for Chicago.
Dinner tonight: Vanessa made pasta.
Caleb and Ava ate at the table.
I was told to eat in the kitchen because I talked back at lunch.
I had plain rice.
Gran said I needed to learn respect.
I turned the page.
Dad still away.
Vanessa had friends over.
They ordered Thai food.
I was given the leftover rice from last night.
Cold.
I asked if I could have some of the Thai food.
Vanessa said I hadn't earned it.
I turned another page.
Told Mrs.
Aldridge today.
She said she would look into it.
Vanessa got a call from school.
Tonight Vanessa told me that if I ever spoke to a teacher about family business again, she would make sure Dad knew what I had really been doing.
I don't know what that means.
I'm scared.
I closed the notebook.
Vanessa was still watching me.
"She went to her teacher," I said.
"And you threatened her."
"I didn't threaten her.
I explained consequences."
"She was twelve years old and she asked an adult for help.
And you made her afraid to do it again."
"She was causing problems—"
"She was a child asking for help." My voice came out low and very steady.
"And you shut that door."
Vanessa stood up.
"You need to hear my side of this."
"I've been hearing your side.
Last night and this morning.
And every version of your side involves Nia being the problem and you being the one managing her." I set the notebook on the counter.
"I've read her side now.
In her own handwriting.
Dated.
Specific.
Fourteen months of it."
"Children lie in diaries."
"She wrote down the date you got the call from Mrs.
Aldridge.
I can verify that."
Vanessa went very still.
"I'm going to call the school," I said.
"Today.
I'm going to speak to Mrs.
Aldridge myself."
"Marcus—"
"And then I'm going to decide what comes next."
May you like
She crossed her arms.
"If you do that," she said quietly, "you will regret it."
