Chapter 2 - Fifty-Fifty
I didn’t sleep.
At midnight, I was still sitting at the kitchen table with Marcus’s proposal in front of me.
Monday and Tuesday with me.
Wednesday and Thursday with him.
Alternating weekends.
Shared holidays.
Shared medical decisions.
Shared school transportation.
Shared expenses based on income.
It looked reasonable.
That made me hate it more.
I wanted something obviously terrible.
Something I could point to and say, See? He is trying to steal my children.
Instead, Marcus had given me color-coded calendars and pickup times.
At one in the morning, Ava came downstairs.
“Mom?”
I quickly covered the papers.
“What are you doing awake?”
“I heard you walking.”
She climbed onto the chair beside me.
“Are you mad at Dad?”
“No.”
That was a lie.
Ava gave me the same look Marcus did when he knew I was avoiding the truth.
“Kind of.”
I sighed.
“Adults disagree.”
“About us?”
My chest hurt.
“Never about loving you.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Nine years old.
Too smart.
Too observant.
I touched her cheek.
“Your dad wants you and Jordan to spend more nights at his house.”
Her eyes widened.
“Really?”
The excitement on her face stabbed me.
“You want that?”
She immediately became cautious.
“I like being here.”
“That wasn’t what I asked either.”
Ava looked down.
“Sometimes.”
My throat tightened.
“How many sometimes?”
She shrugged.
“At Dad’s house I have my art desk.”
“You have art supplies here.”
“I know.”
“And your friends are here.”
“I know.”
“Your school—”
“Mom.”
I stopped.
“I miss Dad when I’m here.”
The sentence was quiet.
Not cruel.
That almost made it worse.
“And when I’m at Dad’s,” she continued, “I miss you.”
I swallowed.
“So maybe fifty-fifty would make you miss both of us.”
She thought about it.
“Maybe.”
Then she rested her head against me.
“But I don’t want you sad.”
That broke something inside me.
I kissed her hair.
“You never have to choose where to be because you’re worried about my feelings.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
The next morning, my phone rang before seven.
My landlord.
I almost ignored it.
I answered.
“Hello?”
“Nia, this is Mr. Feldman.”
“I know.”
“Did you receive the payment reminder?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have the balance Friday.”
There was a pause.
“That’s not actually why I’m calling.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“The owner has decided to sell the building.”
I sat up.
“What?”
“Your lease expires in seven weeks.”
“I know.”
“They won’t be offering renewals.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
“You’re serious?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
I stood.
“You can’t just tell me seven weeks before—”
“Your lease requires thirty days.”
“I have children.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
My voice cracked.
“Ava goes to school here.”
“Nia—”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I can provide a rental reference.”
A rental reference.
As if a piece of paper could create another apartment in a neighborhood where rents had jumped five hundred dollars since I moved in.
I hung up.
Then I cried.
Quietly.
In the bathroom.
Because my children were eating cereal twenty feet away.
At eight fifteen, Marcus arrived to take Jordan to school.
He knew immediately.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Nia.”
“I said nothing.”
Ava walked behind me carrying her backpack.
“Our building got sold.”
I closed my eyes.
Marcus looked at me.
“Sold?”
I turned toward Ava.
“Baby, go get your jacket.”
She disappeared.
Marcus stepped closer.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“How long do you have?”
“Seven weeks.”
He exhaled.
“I’m sorry.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Are you?”
His expression hardened.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“This makes your proposal easier.”
“Nia.”
“Now you can tell a judge I don’t have stable housing.”
His face went completely still.
“Do you honestly think I want you homeless?”
“I don’t know what you want anymore.”
“I want the kids to have two stable parents.”
“Then stop trying to take half their life away from me.”
He stared at me.
“Giving them more time with their father is not taking their life away from you.”
“It changes everything.”
“Yes.”
His voice softened.
“Maybe everything needs to change.”
I hated him in that moment.
Not because he was cruel.
Because he sounded calm while my entire life was falling apart.
That afternoon, I went apartment hunting.
The first place cost twenty-eight hundred.
The second wanted first month, last month, and a security deposit.
The third had mold around the bathroom window.
The fourth was outside Ava’s school district.
I sat in my car afterward and stared at my bank balance.
$614.29.
I finally called my mother.
She answered immediately.
“Nia?”
“Mom.”
She heard my voice.
“What happened?”
I told her.
Everything.
The rent.
My hours.
The building.
Marcus’s proposal.
By the time I finished, Gloria was furious enough for both of us.
“He has some nerve.”
“Mom.”
“He wants fifty-fifty so he can stop paying you.”
“He doesn’t actually pay me now.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“What is the point?”
“The point is men always want credit for fatherhood while women carry the real burden.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“He does help.”
“Do not defend him.”
“I’m not.”
“He left.”
“We broke up.”
“He left.”
“Mom, we both agreed to separate.”
Gloria went quiet.
Then she said, “Do not sign anything.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“And do not tell him how bad your finances are.”
“Why?”
“Because he’ll use it.”
That frightened me because it sounded possible.
That evening Marcus returned with Jordan.
Jordan ran toward me.
“Mom!”
I hugged him.
“How was school?”
“Good. I got a star.”
“For what?”
“Reading.”
Marcus carried Jordan’s backpack inside.
Then he handed me a folder.
“What now?”
“Nothing legal.”
I hesitated before opening it.
Inside were listings.
Apartments.
All near the school.
I looked at him.
“I already checked half of these.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“I called.”
My jaw tightened.
“You called apartments for me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you need somewhere to live.”
“I can handle it.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”
I flipped through the pages.
One listing was much cheaper.
Three bedrooms.
Fifteen minutes from school.
“Why is this one nineteen hundred?”
Marcus hesitated.
I noticed.
“What?”
“My aunt owns it.”
I immediately closed the folder.
“No.”
“Nia.”
“Absolutely not.”
“She owns a duplex.”
“No.”
“The downstairs unit is empty.”
“No.”
“She normally rents it for twenty-three hundred.”
“And she’ll discount it because of you.”
“Yes.”
“So now I owe your family too?”
“You wouldn’t owe anyone anything except rent.”
“What happens when we argue?”
“Nothing.”
“What happens when I don’t agree with your custody proposal?”
“Nothing.”
“What happens when your mother decides I’m not raising the kids correctly?”
“My mother has nothing to do with Aunt Celeste’s property.”
I pushed the folder back.
“I said no.”
Marcus took a long breath.
“All right.”
That should have ended it.
Instead, he reached for his phone.
“I scheduled mediation for Thursday.”
My eyes widened.
“You what?”
“Not court.”
“You scheduled it without asking me.”
“It’s voluntary.”
“Then I’m not going.”
Marcus stared at me.
“Why are you so afraid to sit in a room with someone neutral?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Yes, you are.”
I stepped closer.
“You don’t get to tell me how I feel.”
“Fine.”
His voice rose.
“But our daughter is hearing rent arguments through the walls.”
I froze.
“Our son told me Sunday he thinks you’re mad when he says he misses me.”
“That is not true.”
“He thinks it is.”
My chest hurt.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“This is hurting them.”
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
Ava’s school.
It was after five.
That made no sense.
I answered immediately.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Williams? This is Mrs. Patel, the school counselor.”
My stomach dropped.
“Is Ava okay?”
“Ava is safe.”
I gripped the counter.
“What happened?”
“She came to my office before dismissal.”
“Why?”
Mrs. Patel hesitated.
“She was crying.”
I looked at Marcus.
“What did she say?”
Another pause.
Then Mrs. Patel answered.
“She said she thinks her parents are fighting because neither one wants the children.”
I stopped breathing.
Marcus’s face changed when he saw mine.
“What?” he whispered.
I couldn’t answer.
Mrs. Patel continued softly.
May you like
“She asked me what happens to children when both parents get tired of them.”
And suddenly the custody papers on my table didn’t scare me nearly as much as the thought of what our fighting was doing to my daughter.
