Chapter 7: Forty-Eight Hours
The bank called my dad the following afternoon.
I was in my room, financial aid form still open on my laptop — I hadn't been able to close it — when I heard his voice downstairs shift into the tone he uses for serious calls.
I came to the top of the stairs and listened.
"Yes.
I understand…
And the co-signer is affected how?…
I see.
And the timeline for the review?…
No, I'll need that in writing…
Thank you."
He came to the bottom of the stairs and looked up at me.
"The review is going to take two to three weeks," he said.
"Because Felicia is a co-signer on Raymond's mortgage, any legal finding could affect both of them.
The bank flagged it as a potential unauthorized transfer, which means it goes to their disputes team."
"What does that mean for the money?"
"It means there's a process.
It may result in a partial recovery, depending on what Raymond can demonstrate about how the funds were represented to him." He paused.
"It also means Felicia's name is formally in a dispute file."
I came downstairs.
"Is she going to fight it?"
"She said she wouldn't." He sat down on the bottom step.
I sat next to him.
"I believe her.
I think she's scared enough to cooperate."
"Are you going to stay married to her?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"I don't know yet."
"That's honest."
"You deserve honest." He looked at me sideways.
"How are you doing?
And I mean actually."
I thought about it.
"I keep thinking about the form.
The financial aid form.
I was just filling it out.
It was supposed to be a twenty-minute task." I shook my head.
"And then everything just — changed."
"I know."
"I keep thinking about Mom." I hadn't said it out loud yet.
"I didn't know the money was hers.
I knew I had a college fund, but I didn't know where it came from."
"I should have told you sooner," he said.
"I thought it might make it feel heavier.
Like a burden instead of a gift."
"It doesn't feel like a burden." I looked at my hands.
"It makes me want to protect it more.
It makes me angry that it's gone."
"It's going to come back," he said.
"I promise you that.
Whatever the bank doesn't recover, I will cover personally.
You will go back in the fall.
That is not in question."
I looked at him.
"You don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to." He stood up.
"But she was my wife too.
And what happened in this house is partly on me for not watching the account more carefully.
So yes.
I do have to."
He went to the kitchen to start dinner.
I sat on the bottom step for a while longer.
Marcus knocked on the front door at six.
He had a printed copy of the car listing and a folder with the estimated sale value from two dealerships he'd called.
"Forty-one five is the best offer so far," he said, standing in the doorway.
"Private sale might get closer to forty-three.
I wanted you to have the numbers."
I looked at the folder.
"You really don't have to do this."
"I know." He said it the same way my dad had said it.
"I'm doing it anyway."
I stepped back and let him in.
He and my dad sat at the kitchen table and went through the folder together.
Felicia was in the back bedroom.
She didn't come out for dinner.
At nine o'clock, Marcus got a message.
He looked at his phone, then looked up at my dad.
"Raymond called me," he said.
"He wants to talk to you."
My dad set down his fork.
"He says he has something to tell you," Marcus said.
"Something about the transfer that he didn't say yesterday."
My dad and I looked at each other.
"Something he didn't say," my dad repeated.
"That's what he said."
The kitchen was quiet again.
Outside, the car sat in the driveway in the dark.
May you like
"Tell him to come tomorrow morning," my dad said.
"Nine o'clock."
