Chapter 3 - The Story Kayla Had Been Told
The following morning, Kayla left her bedroom carrying the same brown teddy bear.
She found Daniel sitting at the kitchen table.
A mug of untouched coffee stood beside him.
He had barely slept.
After helping Mia move her school clothes back upstairs, he had stayed awake sorting through the basement box.
He had discovered more of Natalie's cards, Mia's first dance recital program, and a photograph of Mia holding a trophy at her elementary school science fair.
He remembered attending that fair.
He didn't remember when those things had stopped being important enough to keep upstairs.
"Morning," Kayla said.
Daniel looked up.
"Good morning, sweetheart."
She hesitated beside the refrigerator.
"Is Mia mad at me?"
Daniel pulled out the chair across from him.
"Come sit down."
Kayla approached slowly.
"Did I do something wrong?"
He waited until she sat.
"Tell me what your mom said about changing rooms."
Kayla picked at a loose thread on her sleeve.
"She said Mia was tired of having everybody walk past her door."
"Anything else?"
"She said Mia wanted the basement because teenagers like being alone."
Daniel kept his voice steady.
"Did you ever hear Mia say that?"
Kayla shook her head.
"Mom said it was a surprise."
"A surprise for who?"
"Me."
She glanced toward the stairs.
"She told me I could finally have a bigger room for my drawings and all my stuff."
Daniel studied her face.
Kayla had been nine when Rochelle married him.
He remembered how carefully she used to ask permission before taking food from the refrigerator.
How she had called him Mr. Daniel for months.
How proud he had felt when she first asked if she could invite a friend over without checking whether it was allowed.
He loved Kayla.
He had wanted her to feel secure in the house.
But somewhere along the way, Rochelle had decided security for one daughter required taking it from the other.
"Did you ask your mom for Mia's room?" he said.
"No."
"Then why did she give it to you?"
Kayla's eyes filled.
"She said Mia already had everything."
Daniel waited.
Kayla looked down at her bear.
"She said Mia had you, and this house, and memories of her real mom. She said sometimes people like us have to make sure we get our fair share."
Daniel's hand tightened around his mug.
"People like us?"
Kayla nodded.
"She said Mia would always be your real daughter."
Daniel leaned closer.
"Kayla, you are part of this family. You don't have to take anything from Mia to prove that."
A tear slipped down Kayla's cheek.
"Then why does Mom always act like we have to win?"
Daniel had no quick answer.
And he was finished giving quick answers to painful questions.
Later that morning, he knocked on Mia's door.
She was sitting at her desk, trying to finish a school assignment.
Her mother's photograph stood beside her laptop.
"Can we talk?" he asked.
Mia nodded without turning around.
Daniel stayed by the doorway.
"I talked to Kayla."
Mia's pencil stopped moving.
"She's not the one I'm angry at."
"I know."
"She probably thought she was getting a present."
"She did."
Mia looked over her shoulder.
"Did Rochelle really tell her I wanted to move?"
"Yes."
Mia gave a small, exhausted nod.
"I figured."
Daniel stepped inside only after she gestured for him to.
"I've been thinking about every time you came to me and said something wasn't fair."
Mia looked back at her notebook.
"And?"
"And how often I told you to be patient."
She said nothing.
"I thought I was keeping the peace."
Mia's voice was low.
"You were keeping your peace."
Daniel accepted the words.
"You're right."
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then Mia opened a drawer and pulled out a folded sheet of notebook paper.
She handed it to him.
At the top she'd written:
THINGS I DON'T WANT TO ARGUE ABOUT ANYMORE.
Underneath were small, ordinary complaints.
My desk.
My art supplies.
My birthday.
My clothes being borrowed without asking.
Rochelle going into my room.
Daniel read the last line twice.
Why am I always the difficult one when I say no?
He folded the paper carefully.
"Can I keep this?"
Mia nodded.
"But I don't want you to use it to start another fight."
"What do you want me to do?"
She considered the question.
Then she said, "I want you to actually believe me before things get this bad."
Daniel promised he would try to earn that trust.
Downstairs, Rochelle stood near the kitchen doorway.
She had heard enough.
"So now you're collecting complaints against me?" she asked.
Daniel turned.
"No. I'm listening to my daughter."
Rochelle's expression hardened.
"Funny how nobody ever asks what I've sacrificed to live in a house that still feels like it belongs to your first wife."
The words hung between them.
May you like
Daniel looked at her.
For the first time, he understood that the bedroom argument had never really been about square footage.
