Chapter 6: Just Us
Felicia sat down at the table.
She folded her hands in front of her, looked at them for a moment, then looked up at my dad.
She didn't look at me.
"I made a mistake," she said.
"That's a start," my dad said.
"Raymond called me six weeks ago.
He was three months behind on the mortgage.
The bank was threatening to move forward.
He has two kids, Dwayne.
My niece and nephew.
I panicked."
"You panicked for six weeks?"
She pressed her lips together.
"I kept thinking I'd find another way.
I looked at our joint account — we didn't have enough.
I looked at my own savings — not enough.
And then I thought about the college account and I told myself Kendra had time.
That she was only in her second year.
That I could replace it before she needed it again."
"But you didn't tell me," my dad said.
"No."
"Why?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"Because I knew you'd say no."
"So you did it anyway."
"I thought I could fix it before you found out."
My dad leaned forward.
"Felicia.
I need you to hear what you just said.
You knew I would say no.
So you went around me.
You took money that wasn't yours, that I had told you directly was not yours to touch, and you moved it without telling me because you knew I would stop you." He paused.
"That's not a panic decision.
That's a choice."
Felicia's hands tightened on the table.
"It was a choice," she said finally.
"You're right.
It was."
I hadn't expected her to admit that.
I think my dad hadn't either.
He sat back slightly.
"I love my brother," she said.
"I know that's not an excuse.
But I grew up watching out for Raymond.
Our parents weren't — we didn't have much.
I've been the one who fixed things for him since I was fifteen years old." Her voice was steady but thin.
"I know I was wrong.
I know this was different.
But when he called me, I didn't think about the account or the money or where it came from.
I thought about his kids not having a home."
The kitchen was quiet.
I looked at my dad.
His face was hard to read — not cold, but careful.
"That doesn't give you the right," I said.
She looked at me then.
Directly, for the first time.
"No," she said.
"It doesn't."
"That money was my mother's.
She died when I was four.
I never got to know her.
That account was the only thing she ever gave me." My voice stayed level.
I'd decided I wasn't going to cry in front of Felicia.
"And you spent it on a car for Marcus and a mortgage for a man I've met twice."
Felicia looked at me for a long moment.
Something moved across her face that I didn't have a name for.
"I'm sorry, Kendra," she said.
"I am genuinely sorry."
"Sorry doesn't put it back."
"No.
It doesn't." She looked at my dad.
"I will repay it.
All of it.
I'll put it in writing.
I'll sign whatever you need me to sign.
I'll contact Raymond and set up a repayment from him to me and from me to you.
I will make this right."
"And the bank review?" my dad asked.
"That's your decision," she said.
"I'm not asking you to pull it back.
I'm telling you I'll cooperate with whatever process you choose."
My dad was quiet for a long moment.
Marcus, who had been standing in the corner of the kitchen the entire time, spoke up.
"I listed the car," he said.
We all looked at him.
"Twenty minutes ago.
I listed it online.
Whatever it sells for goes directly to Kendra's account." He looked at his mother.
"I'm not driving a car that was bought with her mother's money."
Felicia closed her eyes.
"Okay," my dad said quietly.
He wasn't talking to any one of us in particular.
He was just saying it — marking the moment, maybe.
"Okay."
He stood up and walked to the window.
Outside, the car sat in the driveway.
Forty thousand dollars of someone else's future, parked in the sun.
"I need a few days," he said.
"Before I decide anything about the marriage."
Felicia's breath caught.
He turned around.
"I'm not saying it's over.
I'm saying I need a few days.
Can you give me that?"
She nodded.
He picked up his phone from the table and walked upstairs.
I sat across from Felicia in the quiet kitchen.
Marcus leaned against the counter.
Nobody moved for a while.
Then Felicia said, very quietly: "Your mother would have been proud of you."
I didn't answer.
May you like
I didn't know if she had any right to say it.
But I didn't tell her to take it back either.
