Chapter 3 - The Things Ava Heard
Ava was sitting on the school counselor’s couch when Marcus and I arrived.
She had her backpack in her lap.
Her eyes were swollen.
I wanted to run across the room and pull her into my arms.
Instead, I stopped.
Because Marcus stopped too.
And for once, neither of us raced to be the first parent she chose.
Mrs. Patel looked at Ava.
“Your mom and dad are here.”
Ava stared at us.
“Am I in trouble?”
My heart cracked.
“No.”
Marcus answered at the same time.
“Absolutely not.”
Ava started crying again.
I sat beside her.
Marcus crouched in front of us.
“Baby, why would you think we don’t want you?”
She wiped her face.
“Because you keep arguing about whose house we stay at.”
I swallowed.
Marcus looked down.
Ava continued.
“Mom says we live with her.”
My face burned.
“Dad says we should live with him more.”
Marcus closed his eyes briefly.
“So I thought…”
She stopped.
“What?” I whispered.
“What if you’re both trying to make the other person take us?”
“Oh, Ava.”
I pulled her close.
“No.”
Marcus sat on her other side.
“That is not what is happening.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
This time, we both said it.
Mrs. Patel gave us a few minutes.
Then she asked us to step into the hallway.
The second the door closed, she became serious.
“Ava is carrying adult information.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
“She knows the rent amount.”
My stomach tightened.
“She knows her father proposed a custody change.”
Marcus looked ashamed.
“She knows her mother may have to move.”
I stared at the floor.
Mrs. Patel continued.
“Children fill gaps with their own explanations.”
Marcus asked quietly, “What do we do?”
“Stop making them responsible for interpreting your conflict.”
Her answer was immediate.
“They need one story from both of you.”
“What story?” I asked.
“That they have two parents who love them.”
Marcus nodded.
“That neither home is a competition.”
I swallowed.
“And that adult financial problems are not their job to solve.”
That one landed directly on me.
After we left, Marcus and I stood beside our cars.
Neither of us spoke for several seconds.
Then I said, “I’ll go to mediation.”
He looked at me.
“Okay.”
“But I am not agreeing to fifty-fifty just because you made a calendar.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“You are.”
“I’m asking you to discuss it.”
I crossed my arms.
“Same thing.”
“No.”
He looked exhausted.
“For once, Nia, can we stop trying to win every sentence?”
That irritated me.
Then I realized I was already preparing a comeback.
So I stopped.
“Fine.”
Thursday afternoon, we sat across from each other in a mediator’s office.
Her name was Lauren Hill.
She looked about fifty and had the patient expression of someone who had heard every possible argument between separated parents.
She started simply.
“What do you both want?”
“Stability,” I said.
“More time with my kids,” Marcus said.
I looked at him.
Lauren noticed.
“Nia?”
“He makes it sound like I keep them from him.”
Marcus sighed.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Lauren raised one hand.
“This is exactly why we’re here.”
We went through the current schedule.
Every other weekend.
Wednesday dinners.
Extra days when I worked.
School events shared.
Holidays negotiated year by year.
Then Lauren asked about expenses.
Marcus opened his laptop.
Of course he did.
I almost rolled my eyes.
Then I saw the spreadsheet.
Health insurance.
$438 monthly.
After-school care.
$360.
Dance.
$145.
Soccer.
$95.
School lunches.
Clothes.
Dental bills.
Camp.
Medication.
The average came to almost fifteen hundred dollars a month.
I stared.
“That can’t be right.”
Marcus turned the laptop toward me.
“It varies.”
“I thought you said nine hundred.”
“That’s the recurring minimum.”
I went through the entries.
Receipts were attached.
Dates.
Amounts.
I felt embarrassed.
Lauren looked at me.
“Do you cover additional expenses?”
“Of course.”
“Approximately?”
I hesitated.
“I’ve never totaled them.”
Marcus didn’t say anything.
That somehow made it worse.
Lauren asked, “Housing?”
“Twenty-four hundred.”
“Utilities?”
“About four-fifty.”
“Food?”
“Maybe seven hundred.”
“Transportation?”
I continued answering.
By the end, we had something neither of us had ever created.
A complete picture.
The children cost a lot of money.
So did maintaining two homes.
Lauren leaned back.
“You’re both contributing significantly.”
I looked at Marcus.
He looked at me.
Neither of us seemed happy about being told the other person wasn’t irresponsible.
Lauren continued.
“The problem is your system has no predictability.”
I nodded slowly.
“When Nia experiences a major expense, she feels abandoned.”
That described it perfectly.
“When Marcus pays multiple direct expenses, he feels those contributions are invisible.”
Marcus nodded.
Lauren looked between us.
“And both of you turn that frustration into arguments about character.”
I felt exposed.
She asked about my work.
I admitted my hours had been reduced.
Marcus’s head turned sharply.
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“I’m telling the mediator.”
Lauren raised one eyebrow.
“And Marcus.”
I sighed.
“Yes.”
“How much income did you lose?”
“Almost twenty percent.”
Marcus stared at me.
“That’s huge.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because every conversation about money turns into this.”
“Maybe because you wait until there’s a crisis.”
My anger flashed.
Lauren immediately raised a hand.
“No.”
Marcus stopped.
“We are not using honesty as ammunition.”
He leaned back.
“You’re right.”
I looked at him.
That was the first apology of the session.
Lauren suggested temporary support while I searched for new housing and more work.
She also suggested gradually expanding Marcus’s parenting time instead of immediately switching to fifty-fifty.
One additional school night each week.
Then review after three months.
“That seems reasonable,” Marcus said.
I stared at him.
“What?”
“You expected me to refuse?”
“I expected you to insist on fifty-fifty.”
“I want fifty-fifty eventually.”
My stomach tightened.
“But not if the kids are miserable.”
That surprised me.
Lauren looked at me.
“Nia?”
I hated the fear inside me.
But I forced myself to answer the actual question.
“I can try one extra night.”
Marcus nodded.
No celebration.
No smug smile.
Just a nod.
For the first time, the room felt less like a courtroom.
Then Lauren asked the question I had been dreading.
“Do either of you intend to seek formal child support?”
Silence.
Marcus looked at me.
I looked at him.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Lauren explained that formal calculations would consider income, insurance, parenting time, and expenses.
“Would fifty-fifty eliminate support?” Marcus asked.
“Not necessarily.”
He nodded.
That mattered.
He wasn’t chasing equal time just to avoid money.
At least not obviously.
Then my phone vibrated.
My landlord.
I ignored it.
It rang again.
I answered.
“Mr. Feldman, I’m in a meeting.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
His voice sounded uncomfortable.
“What?”
“The buyer accelerated the closing.”
My chest tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“They’re offering tenants cash to leave early.”
“How early?”
“Three weeks.”
I stood.
“No.”
Marcus looked alarmed.
“What happened?”
I turned away.
Mr. Feldman continued.
“If you leave within twenty-one days, they’ll give you three thousand dollars.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You can remain through the lease.”
“Then I’m staying.”
Another pause.
“Nia…”
“What?”
“The new owner plans major renovation.”
“So?”
“So after your lease ends, you will absolutely need to leave.”
I closed my eyes.
Three weeks with money.
Or seven weeks without it.
Either way, I was losing the apartment.
I ended the call.
Lauren asked softly, “What happened?”
I told them.
Marcus immediately said, “Take my aunt’s duplex.”
“No.”
“Nia.”
“I said no.”
Lauren looked between us.
“What duplex?”
I glared at Marcus.
He explained.
When he finished, Lauren looked at me.
“Why did you refuse?”
“Because it’s his family.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want my housing controlled by my ex.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“It wouldn’t be.”
“How do I know?”
“Because Celeste would give you a normal lease.”
I shook my head.
Lauren asked, “Could the children remain in their school?”
“Yes,” Marcus said.
I hated how quickly he answered.
“Distance?”
“Twelve minutes.”
“Rent?”
“Nineteen hundred.”
My stomach twisted.
Five hundred dollars less than I paid now.
Lauren looked at me.
“Nia, considering an option is not the same as accepting control.”
I stared at the floor.
Then Marcus said something quieter.
“You don’t have to trust me.”
I looked up.
“Trust the lease.”
For once, I had no argument.
That evening, I drove past the duplex.
Just to look.
It was nicer than I expected.
Small front porch.
Fenced backyard.
Three bedrooms.
A park down the block.
Ava would stay in her school.
I sat in my car for ten minutes.
Then another car pulled up.
A woman got out.
Tall.
Pretty.
Carrying groceries.
She walked to the upstairs unit.
Marcus’s aunt?
I was about to leave when another car stopped behind her.
Marcus got out.
He took two grocery bags from her.
She smiled.
Then she kissed him.
Not on the cheek.
On the mouth.
My hands froze on the steering wheel.
May you like
Marcus had never told me he was seeing anyone.
And now the woman who might be living directly above my children’s new home was kissing their father on the front steps.
