Chapter 7: Everything She Took From Me
For several seconds, Darius simply stared at the brass key in his palm.
“Everything you took from my mother?”” he repeated.
Monica wiped beneath her eyes, careful not to disturb her makeup.
“I didn't mean it the way it sounded.””
“Then explain what you meant.””
She looked at me.
“Loretta, please. Tell him how much you gave me over the years.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What does that have to do with the storage unit?””
“Everything!”” Monica snapped.
“You helped us when we needed it. You gave us things. You never asked for them back.””
Darius stepped between us.
“Stop talking around the question.””
Monica took a breath.
“The storage unit contains some of the things your mother gave us when we first moved into this house. Furniture. Jewelry.
A few family items. I was going to organize everything and return whatever she wanted.””
I stared at her.
“Why would you put my belongings in storage without asking me?””
She pressed her lips together.
“Because there wasn't enough room.””
“There was enough room for your new furniture,” I replied.
“There was enough room for the decorative cabinets you ordered last spring.””
“Those were different.””
“How?””
Monica looked toward Darius, hoping he would intervene.
He didn't.
I leaned forward.
“Tell me, Monica. What did you take?””
Her silence answered before she did.
Darius slipped the key into his pocket.
“We're going to that storage unit.””
“Not now,” Monica said quickly.
“It's Thanksgiving.””
“You seemed perfectly comfortable making my mother miserable on Thanksgiving.””
“That's not fair.””
He looked at the tray on the floor.
“Nothing about today has been fair.””
Monica grabbed her purse.
“Fine. Go through my belongings. Destroy my privacy. Make me the villain in front of everyone.””
Darius shook his head.
“You gave up the right to call this private when you used my mother's wedding ring to fund your purchases.””
He turned toward me.
“Mom, do you want to come?””
I looked at Malik, who was still holding my hand.
“I'll stay with Grandma,” he said before I could answer.
Darius crouched beside him.
“Thank you, buddy. I'll be back soon.””
Malik studied his father's face.
“Are you going to fix it?””
Darius swallowed.
“I'm going to try.””
The answer wasn't a promise. But it was the first honest thing he had said all afternoon.
He left the kitchen with the key.
Monica followed him to the doorway.
“If you walk out of this house right now, don't expect me to forgive you.””
Darius paused.
“I'm not asking you to forgive me.””
He looked back at her.
“I'm asking you to tell the truth.””
Then he left.
The front door shut.
Monica stood motionless in the bright hallway for a moment before turning toward me.
Her expression changed so quickly that it frightened me more than her shouting had.
“You're happy now, aren't you?””
I blinked.
“No.””
“You've finally got what you wanted. Darius is questioning me. His clients have seen me lose control. My son thinks I'm a monster.””
“Malik thinks you're being cruel because he watched you be cruel.””
“He's seven!””
“And he knows the difference between kindness and humiliation.””
Monica laughed bitterly.
“You always do that.””
“Do what?””
“Make yourself sound so innocent.””
I stood slowly, resting one hand against the counter.
“I never wanted to fight you for my son.””
“Yet you've always had him.””
The words came out before she could stop them.
For the first time, I understood that Monica's resentment had grown from something deeper than my presence at family dinners.
She had mistaken my love for Darius as a competition she needed to win.
And somewhere along the way, she had decided the easiest way to win was to make me disappear.
“Monica,” I said, “I never asked Darius to choose between us.””
“You didn't have to. Every time he looked at you, he felt guilty. Every time you called, he dropped everything. Every time we made plans, you somehow became part of them.””
“I called him on his birthday.””
“You called him every birthday.””
I stared at her.
“He's my son.””
“And he's my husband!””
The kitchen fell silent.
Monica's shoulders rose and fell.
“I wanted one Thanksgiving where everything looked perfect. One dinner where nobody talked about sacrifice, money, or how much you had done for everyone. I wanted people to look at me and see a woman who had made something of her life.””
I looked at the receipts scattered across the counter.
“And you thought humiliating me would make you look better?””
She lowered her eyes.
“I didn't think it would go this far.””
“That is not the same as being sorry.””
Monica turned away.
For a moment, I thought she might apologize.
Instead, she walked into the dining room and began straightening the silverware.
I watched her align the forks, move a napkin, and adjust a crystal glass that was already perfectly straight.
She was still trying to make the room look right.
Even now.
Malik climbed down from his chair and approached me.
“Grandma, can I ask you something?””
“Of course.””
“Are you going to leave our family?””
The question hurt more than anything Monica had said.
I knelt carefully and took both his hands.
“Sweetheart, I love you. Nothing that happened today changes that.””
“But Mom said you make everything difficult.””
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Sometimes grown-ups say hurtful things when they're upset. That doesn't mean those things are true.””
“Then why did Dad let her?””
I had no easy answer.
I brushed a tear from his cheek.
“Sometimes people are so afraid of losing what they have that they forget to protect what's important.””
Malik considered this.
“Then Dad needs to stop being afraid.””
A small, broken laugh escaped me.
“Yes, sweetheart. I think he does.””
Almost forty minutes passed before the front door opened again.
Darius entered alone.
His navy shirt was wrinkled at the collar. He held a thick manila envelope in one hand and his phone in the other.
Monica came running from the dining room.
“What happened?””
Darius didn't answer immediately.
He walked into the kitchen and placed the envelope on the island.
Then he looked at me.
“Mom, I found your things.””
My heart began to pound.
“What things?””
He opened the envelope and removed a small velvet jewelry box.
Inside lay a pair of gold earrings Samuel had given me for our twentieth anniversary.
I reached for them with trembling fingers.
“I thought those were lost.””
Darius placed another item beside the box.
My mother's silver serving spoon.
Then a framed photograph of Samuel and me on our wedding day.
Then a small wooden music box that had belonged to my grandmother.
I touched each object as though it might disappear if I moved too quickly.
“Where did you find all of this?””
“Unit 214,” he said.
“Everything was labeled.””
He turned toward Monica.
“You had my mother's name written on every box.””
Monica's face tightened.
“I was organizing things.””
Darius shook his head.
“No. You were hiding them.””
He removed one final document from the envelope.
It was a printed inventory with dozens of items listed beneath my name.
At the bottom, someone had written a date and a note in blue ink.
Darius read it silently.
Then his eyes lifted toward his wife.
“Monica, why does this inventory say you planned to sell my mother's belongings after Thanksgiving?””
Her mouth opened.
No words came out.
May you like
And when Darius turned the paper toward me, I saw a line beneath the date that made my hands go cold.
*Estimated resale value: $18,600.*
