Chapter 9: What Gets Repaired
The repayment agreement was signed four days later.
My dad's lawyer drew it up — a single document, two pages, clear language.
Felicia would repay the full ninety thousand dollars over thirty-six months, with the first payment due in thirty days.
Raymond would contribute directly to Felicia's repayment on a separate schedule they arranged between themselves.
The bank review remained open but was noted as a cooperative matter, which the disputes team said would likely affect the outcome.
Felicia signed it at the kitchen table.
My dad signed it.
The lawyer witnessed it.
I wasn't in the room.
My dad had asked if I wanted to be there and I'd said no.
I sat in my room and listened to the quiet sounds of it happening below me — chairs moving, low voices, the front door opening and closing when the lawyer left.
My dad knocked on my door afterward.
"It's done," he said.
"Okay."
He came in and sat on the edge of my desk chair.
"The first payment will go directly into your account.
Every payment after that, the same.
I've already spoken to the financial aid office at your school.
They're holding your enrollment for the fall."
I nodded.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Relieved," I said.
"And tired.
And still angry, a little."
"That's fair."
"Is it going to be weird?" I asked.
"Living here.
With her."
He was quiet for a moment.
"I don't know yet.
We're going to try." He looked at me carefully.
"That's not me asking you to be okay with what she did.
I'm not asking that."
"I know."
"I'm asking you to let me figure out my marriage while you figure out your next year of school."
"I can do that," I said.
He nodded.
He started to stand up, then stopped.
"Your mother's name was Denise," he said.
"She was twenty-six when she died.
She had a savings account she'd been adding to since before you were born.
She told me once she was saving it for something important — she didn't know what yet." He paused.
"When she was gone, I knew what it was for."
I didn't say anything.
"She would have wanted you to finish school," he said.
"That's the only thing I'm certain of."
He stood up and walked to the door.
"Dad."
He turned.
"Tell me more about her sometime.
Not today.
But sometime."
He looked at me for a moment.
"Yeah," he said.
"I will."
He closed the door softly behind him.
I turned back to my laptop.
The financial aid form was still open.
I looked at it for a moment — the same form, the same fields, the same account number that had shown zero four days ago.
The balance now showed a holding confirmation from the school.
Enrollment secured.
Fall semester.
I filled in the rest of the form.
It took about twenty minutes.
When I submitted it, I sat back and looked at the confirmation screen for a while.
Outside my window, I heard a car engine start — Marcus, probably, taking the listing photos he'd mentioned.
The car would sell within the week.
The money would come to me.
I thought about Denise.
Twenty-six years old with a savings account and a plan she hadn't named yet.
I thought about the form I'd just submitted.
The school I was going back to.
The second year I was still going to have.
I closed the laptop.
I didn't need to look at the screen anymore.
It had said what it needed to say.
---
Some things can be taken from you without your knowledge — but they can also be fought for, repaid, and made right.
Denise saved that money not knowing what it was for.
Kendra found out.
Have you ever had someone take something from you that wasn't theirs to take — and had to decide how to respond?
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