Chapter 4 - The Price of Keeping Peace
On Saturday morning, Curtis was waiting for me in the garage.
I had gone outside to check my car's oil.
He stood beside the workbench with his arms folded.
"You've been filling your mother's head with nonsense."
I pulled the hood release.
"I asked her questions."
"You made her cry."
I turned.
"She's crying because she's scared about losing the house."
Curtis's jaw tightened.
"You think you're smarter than everybody."
"No. I think eight thousand dollars is a lot of money."
He stepped closer.
"So she told you."
"Yes."
"That money was between me and her."
"Then why is she asking me and Nia to cover bills?"
His eyes narrowed.
"Your mother offered to help me build something."
"Where's the business?"
"You don't understand how things work."
"Then explain."
He looked away.
"I had setbacks."
"What kind?"
"That's not your concern."
There it was again.
The phrase adults used when they wanted a young person to carry responsibilities without being allowed to question them.
I lowered the hood.
"You're right about one thing. Your business isn't my concern."
Curtis gave a small, satisfied nod.
"But Mom losing her house is."
His expression darkened.
"You keep talking, and you might need somewhere else to live."
I stood still.
"Are you threatening to throw me out of my mother's house?"
"I'm telling you there are consequences for disrespect."
The garage door opened behind us.
Mom stood there holding a basket of laundry.
"Curtis?"
He immediately relaxed his shoulders.
"We're just talking."
Mom looked from him to me.
I could see that she didn't believe him.
But she didn't challenge him.
Later that morning, she knocked on my bedroom door.
"Can we talk?"
I moved aside.
She sat on the edge of my bed.
For a while, she looked around the room.
At my tools.
My textbooks.
The old championship trophy from high school basketball.
"You know," she said, "when you were little, you used to keep everything lined up on that shelf."
I smiled despite myself.
"You said I organized my toys like a mechanic."
"You did."
Then her smile disappeared.
"I know you think I'm being foolish."
"I think you're trying to hold on to someone who's hurting you financially."
She looked down at her hands.
"You don't know what it's like to be alone for years."
I sat beside her.
"No. I don't."
"People see a woman my age and think she's supposed to be content. Work, come home, watch television, go to bed. That's supposed to be enough."
I waited.
"Curtis made me feel wanted again."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
I had spent months thinking only about what he was taking.
I hadn't understood what Mom believed she would lose if she made him leave.
"Mom, you deserve to be loved."
She wiped her eyes.
"But love shouldn't cost you your home."
She didn't answer.
Then she asked something that made my chest tighten.
"Are you planning to move out?"
I hesitated.
"Yes."
"When?"
"As soon as I can afford it."
Her shoulders dropped.
"I thought so."
"I'm not leaving because I don't love you."
"I know."
"I'm leaving because I can't keep living like this."
She reached for my hand.
For the first time in months, she held it the way she used to when I was a child.
"I don't want to lose you."
"You won't."
She nodded, but her eyes remained frightened.
That afternoon, she confronted Curtis about making a repayment schedule.
I heard raised voices through the wall.
He accused her of letting me turn her against him.
Then he stopped speaking to her.
For the rest of the weekend, he moved through the house as though she were invisible.
Sunday night, Mom knocked on my door again.
She was holding an envelope.
Inside was a printed notice from the mortgage servicer.
The amount overdue was worse than she'd admitted.
And the deadline for bringing the loan current was approaching.
"I need help," she whispered.
I looked at the notice.
For the first time, she wasn't asking me to pretend everything was fine.
May you like
She was asking me to face the truth with her.
But helping her was going to require something neither of us had wanted to do.
