Chapter 4: Spending Money She Did Not Have
The resort was everything the photographs had promised.
The suite had floor-to-ceiling windows facing the ocean.
A private plunge pool on the terrace.
White curtains moving in the sea breeze.
The kind of room that made problems feel temporarily smaller.
My room was three floors below.
Simpler.
Quieter.
I preferred it.
I unpacked slowly, ordered a pot of tea from room service, and sat on my small balcony watching the water.
The sun was low.
The light was the color of something ending.
My phone buzzed.
Michael.
*Can you come up?
We need to talk.*
I found them in the suite.
Vanessa was seated on the sofa, arms crossed.
Michael stood near the window.
Between them, on the glass coffee table, was a laptop.
"Sit down, Mom."
I sat.
"Tell her," Michael said to Vanessa.
She didn't look at me.
"It was more than four thousand."
The room was very quiet.
"How much more?" I asked.
"Nine.
Total."
Michael pressed two fingers to his forehead.
"She borrowed nine thousand dollars from Dana.
Over six months."
"I was going to pay it back," Vanessa said.
"I had a plan."
"What plan?" Michael asked.
"You haven't told me about any plan."
"Because you would have reacted exactly like this."
"Vanessa." His voice was controlled in the way that costs something.
"We have a joint account.
I see every transaction.
Where did nine thousand dollars go?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"Some of it was the designer bag.
The one I told you was on sale."
Michael closed his eyes briefly.
"Some of it was the tracksuit.
And the sunglasses.
And the shoes I bought for the trip."
"That's not nine thousand dollars."
"There were other things."
"What other things?"
She finally looked at him.
"I've been paying for things I was embarrassed to tell you about.
A membership.
Some treatments.
A course I signed up for that I never finished.
Things that made me feel like I was keeping up."
"Keeping up with what?"
She didn't answer.
I looked at her.
For the first time, I saw something underneath the armor.
Not guilt exactly.
Something more like exhaustion.
"Keeping up with what you thought I expected," I said.
She looked at me sharply.
"I'm not asking to be cruel," I said.
"I'm asking because I think that's what this is."
Vanessa's jaw moved.
"You have no idea what it's like.
Every time we see you, you have the right clothes and the right opinions and the right everything.
And Michael talks about you like you're some kind of standard he's measuring everything against."
"Vanessa—" Michael started.
"I'm not attacking her.
I'm explaining." She pressed her hands flat on her knees.
"I borrowed the money because I wanted one week where I didn't feel like the person who wasn't enough."
The room held that sentence for a moment.
Michael sat down.
He didn't say anything right away.
I looked at the laptop on the table.
The screen showed a bank statement.
The balance was $214.
"Does Dana know you can't pay her back yet?" I asked.
Vanessa shook her head.
"Is that who you called at the transfer desk?"
A small nod.
"What did she say?"
Vanessa's voice dropped.
"She said the account was fine.
But she sounded strange.
I don't know what that means."
Michael looked at the screen.
"I think we need to call her."
"Not tonight," Vanessa said quickly.
"Please.
Not tonight."
Michael looked at me.
I stood up.
"I'll leave you two to talk."
"Mom." He stood too.
"I meant what I said.
I'm sorry.
For the airport.
For not saying anything when I should have."
"I know."
"That's not enough, is it."
"It's a start," I said.
"The rest we can work out later."
I left them there, the ocean behind them through the glass, the laptop open between them like something that still needed to be answered.
In the elevator going down, my phone lit up with a message from a number I didn't recognize.
*You should ask Michael what he knew before the airport.
And when he knew it.*
I stared at the screen.
May you like
The elevator doors opened.
I didn't move.
