Chapter 8: What Dana Knew
Dana picked up on the second ring.
Jason put the call on speaker and set the phone on the cushion between us.
Lily had gone to her room.
Owen was still asleep.
"Jason." Dana's voice was flat.
Not hostile, exactly.
Careful.
"Hey, Dana.
I'm sorry to call without warning."
"Is Melissa okay?"
"She went to your mom's.
Did she call you?"
A pause.
"Not yet."
"Dana, I need to ask you something directly, and I need you to be straight with me."
Another pause.
Longer.
"Okay," she said.
"The joint account.
The one Melissa has been depositing cash into.
Do you know where the money comes from?"
Silence.
"Dana."
"Jason, I told her she needed to tell you herself."
Jason's hand went flat on the cushion beside the phone.
"Tell me what?"
"She's been working," Dana said.
"Part time.
Since about two years ago.
She didn't want you to know."
"Why wouldn't she want me to know she was working?"
"Because of why she started." Dana exhaled.
"She was scared, Jason.
After your dad died and all that stuff came up about the business account — she got scared.
She said she needed money that was hers.
That she couldn't touch if something went wrong."
"If something went wrong," Jason repeated slowly.
"She didn't mean — she wasn't planning to leave you.
She just needed to feel like she had a floor.
Something under her feet that was hers." A pause.
"She should have told you.
I told her that a hundred times."
Jason looked at me.
I kept my face still.
"Dana," he said.
"The bank records she showed me.
About my mother and the business account.
Did Melissa find those on her own?"
A very long silence.
"Dana."
"Her cousin works at the bank," Dana said quietly.
"He pulled the records for her.
She asked him to, right after the funeral.
She was — she was in a bad place, Jason.
She was grieving and scared and she wanted to understand what had happened to the money."
"And when she saw the records—"
"She didn't understand what she was looking at.
She saw a large transfer and your mother's name connected to the account and she assumed the worst." Dana's voice dropped.
"I told her to ask your mother directly.
She said she couldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because she was afraid of her."
Jason looked at me again.
This time the look lasted longer.
"Afraid of her," he said.
"Not physically.
Just — intimidated.
Your mother is a strong woman, Jason.
Melissa always felt like she wasn't enough.
Like she was being measured and coming up short." Dana paused.
"The bill was wrong.
I told her that too.
That was wrong."
"Yes," Jason said.
"It was."
"She's not a bad person," Dana said.
"She's a scared person who made bad choices."
Jason picked up the phone.
Took it off speaker.
Held it to his ear.
"Thank you, Dana," he said quietly.
"I mean that."
He ended the call.
The room was quiet.
Owen breathed slowly against the couch cushion.
Jason set the phone down and looked at the middle distance for a long moment — not at me, not at Owen, just at the space in front of him where something was rearranging itself.
"She was afraid of you," he said finally.
"And instead of telling me, she built a case."
"Yes."
"And I let her.
Because it was easier than asking questions."
I didn't answer that.
He wasn't asking me to.
He leaned forward and put his face in his hands.
Not crying.
Just holding the weight of it.
"I owe you an apology," he said through his hands.
"You owe me nothing.
You're my son."
"I stopped asking questions, Mom.
For two years.
I let her tell me a story about you and I just—" He stopped.
"I'm sorry."
I moved to the couch and sat beside him.
I put my hand on his back the way I had when he was twelve and the world had been too much.
We sat like that for a while.
Then Owen stirred, blinked, looked at us both with the uncomplicated eyes of a five-year-old.
"Are we having lunch?" he asked.
Jason laughed.
A real laugh, short and surprised.
May you like
"Yeah, buddy," he said.
"We're having lunch."
