Chapter 2 - The Things Nia Wasn't Allowed to Say
Marcus canceled his morning meeting.
He took off his jacket, placed his phone facedown on the counter, and pulled out the chair beside Nia.
Vanessa watched him with obvious irritation.
“So we're making a federal case out of breakfast now?”
Marcus looked at her.
“I need to hear what the children have been trying to tell me.”
“Fine. Go ahead and encourage them.”
She turned and walked out.
A moment later, her footsteps disappeared upstairs.
Caleb immediately relaxed his shoulders.
Marcus noticed.
That tiny movement told him more than another argument would have.
“Nia,” he said gently, “what started the disagreement this morning?”
His daughter glanced at the untouched breakfast.
“I asked Mom if I could join the spring orchestra performance.”
Marcus blinked.
“Your cello?”
Nia nodded.
He remembered buying the instrument for her tenth birthday.
She had barely been able to hold it properly, but she had practiced every afternoon until her fingers were sore.
Within two years, music had become one of the things she loved most.
“I thought you stopped taking lessons,” Marcus said.
Nia looked surprised.
“I didn't want to stop.”
“Your mother told me you weren't interested anymore.”
Her face crumpled.
“Mom said you both decided I needed to spend more time helping at home.”
Marcus sat back.
He remembered that conversation.
Vanessa had called him during a business trip.
She mentioned that Nia had become difficult about her activities and wanted to quit music.
Marcus had been rushing between meetings.
He had said that if Nia truly wanted to stop, they should respect her decision.
He had never asked Nia directly.
“What happened when you asked about the orchestra today?” he asked.
Nia rubbed her hands together.
“Mom said we already discussed it. I told her I never agreed to quit. Then she said I was challenging her.”
Caleb spoke without looking up.
“Mom says Nia always thinks she's special.”
Marcus turned toward him.
“Does she say that often?”
Caleb nodded.
“Mostly when Nia wants something.”
Nia wiped her face again.
“It's okay, Caleb.”
“No,” Marcus said quietly. “He can talk too.”
For the next twenty minutes, he listened.
Nia explained that when Marcus traveled, she was expected to help Caleb with his homework, clean the kitchen after dinner, fold laundry, and make sure the living room was spotless before bedtime.
Helping with chores wasn't unusual.
But the expectations kept expanding.
If she finished everything, Vanessa sometimes added another task.
If Nia asked to practice her cello, her mother accused her of avoiding responsibility.
And when Vanessa was particularly angry, she refused to speak to Nia except to issue instructions.
Caleb described carrying messages between them.
“Mom tells me to ask Nia if she's finished cleaning,” he said. “Even when Nia's sitting right there.”
Marcus felt a sickening mixture of anger and shame.
He had assumed the children were quiet because they were growing older.
He had praised Vanessa for keeping the household running smoothly.
But Nia was describing a different reality.
One in which ordinary childhood interests had become privileges she needed to earn.
“Why didn't you call me?” Marcus asked.
Nia's expression changed.
“Mom said not to bother you with things that weren't important.”
Marcus remembered the countless times he had told Vanessa how exhausted he was after long workdays.
He had never imagined his daughter would hear those complaints as a warning to stay silent.
That afternoon, after he collected the children from school, Marcus asked Nia whether he could see her music folder.
She brought it downstairs along with her cello case.
Inside the folder was a letter from her school.
It described a winter youth orchestra audition for which Nia had been recommended.
Near the bottom was a parent response form.
The box marked DECLINED had been checked.
Beneath it was Vanessa's signature.
Marcus looked at his daughter.
“Did you ever tell your mother you didn't want to audition?”
Nia shook her head.
“I begged her to let me go.”
Marcus read the paper again.
Then he noticed the date.
The audition had taken place on a Friday evening in February.
He remembered that Friday.
He hadn't been in Atlanta.
May you like
He had been home in the city.
And Vanessa had told him there was nothing important happening with the children that weekend.
