Chapter 2: The Secret Behind the Bedroom Door
"Your daughter has been taking advantage of this family.""
Denise's words hung in the dining room long after she stopped speaking.
Maya stood behind me, gripping the handle of her suitcase.
I turned toward her.
"Sweetheart, what is she talking about?""
Maya shook her head.
"I don't know, Dad.""
Denise gave a short, humorless laugh.
"Of course she doesn't.""
I looked at my wife.
"Then tell me.""
She picked up her glass of iced tea and took a slow sip.
"Ask her where all her money goes.""
I frowned.
"What does that have to do with anything?""
"She's been living here for years. Eating our food. Using our electricity. Taking advantage of everything we provide.""
I glanced at Maya.
"She contributes to the household.""
Denise shrugged.
"Not enough.""
Maya finally spoke.
"I give Dad money every month.""
Denise turned toward her.
"Nobody asked you to.""
Maya looked stunned.
"You told me I had to contribute.""
"I told you to be responsible. There's a difference.""
I felt something tighten in my chest.
"Denise, how much money has Maya given us?""
My wife looked away.
"I don't keep track of every little thing.""
"I do.""
I wasn't trying to make my daughter pay rent.
But I knew she had been transferring money into our joint household account.
Every month.
Sometimes more than we asked.
I took out my phone and opened my banking application.
"She's been sending four hundred dollars every month for utilities and groceries.""
Denise shrugged again.
"That's barely anything.""
I stared at her.
"Four hundred dollars from someone who is paying for her own education and working full-time?""
"She should be paying more.""
Maya lowered her head.
I noticed her fingers twisting around the suitcase handle.
"How much did you expect her to pay?"" I asked.
Denise hesitated.
"That's not the issue.""
"Then answer me.""
She pushed her plate away.
"Marcus, you're making this about money because you don't want to admit that your daughter is becoming a problem.""
I stood up.
"She's not a problem.""
Denise's voice sharpened.
"She's twenty-two and still living in her dead mother's bedroom!""
The words struck the room like a slap.
Maya went completely still.
I felt my entire body stiffen.
"Don't you ever say that again.""
Denise looked irritated.
"What? It's true.""
I took one step toward her.
"That bedroom is where Maya grew up. It is where she keeps memories of her mother. There is nothing wrong with that.""
Denise crossed her arms.
"She needs to move on.""
I looked at my daughter.
A small framed photograph of Angela sat on her nightstand.
Maya had never taken it down.
Not once.
"Your mother will always be part of your life," I told her.
Maya nodded, fighting back tears.
Denise scoffed.
"See? This is exactly why she acts this way. You treat her like she's still eleven.""
I turned around.
"Stop.""
But Denise wasn't finished.
"Every decision in this house revolves around Maya. Her feelings. Her memories.
Her schedule. Her needs.""
I stared at her.
"What decision have I made that prevented your children from having something?""
She said nothing.
I continued.
"I helped Jordan buy a car.""
"That was your choice.""
"I paid Brianna's tuition.""
"That was your choice too.""
"I never once told either of them they didn't belong here.""
Denise leaned back.
"Because you don't understand how difficult it is to raise someone else's child.""
The words landed differently this time.
I had spent five years believing Denise loved Maya.
Now I wondered whether she had ever truly accepted her.
I looked at my wife.
"Is that what this is about?""
She shrugged.
"Maybe you should have thought about that before expecting me to be her mother.""
"I never asked you to replace Angela.""
"Then stop expecting me to treat Maya like my own children.""
I stared at her.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked the question I should have asked years earlier.
"Have you been treating her differently because she's not yours?""
Denise's eyes narrowed.
"Don't twist my words.""
"Answer me.""
She stood up.
"I'm not discussing this while you're shouting.""
"I'm not shouting.""
She grabbed her phone.
"Whatever. I have things to do.""
Then she walked toward the kitchen.
Maya remained in the doorway.
I approached her.
"Come here.""
She didn't move.
"Dad, can I ask you something?""
"Anything.""
"Do you know why she hates having me here?""
I swallowed.
"She doesn't get to decide whether you belong.""
Maya looked down.
"Sometimes I think she wishes Mom was still alive.""
My heart broke.
I gently lifted her chin.
"Your mother would want you to be happy. And nobody in this house has the right to make you feel guilty for loving her.""
Maya nodded.
I carried her suitcase upstairs and put it back beside her wardrobe.
Then I noticed something.
Her closet was almost empty.
I looked at the shelves.
Several pairs of shoes were gone. Her winter jackets had disappeared. Even the small box containing her mother's jewelry was missing.
"Maya, where are your things?""
She hesitated.
"I packed some of them yesterday.""
"Why?""
"Denise said I should start preparing.""
I stared at her.
"She told you yesterday?""
Maya nodded.
"She said she had already spoken to you.""
My stomach dropped.
"What?""
"She said you agreed that I needed to move out.""
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"She told you I agreed?""
"Yes.""
"Did she say anything else?""
Maya walked to her desk.
She opened a drawer and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"She gave me this.""
I took it.
It was a handwritten list.
At the top, Denise had written:
*MAYA'S DEPARTURE CHECKLIST.*
Underneath were several items.
- Find an apartment. - Transfer phone expenses. - Remove personal belongings.
- Return house keys. - Stop expecting financial assistance.
At the bottom, in Denise's handwriting, was one final sentence.
Your father has enough responsibilities without carrying you forever.
I read it twice.
Then I noticed something written on the back.
A date.
The following Monday.
I looked at Maya.
"She planned this days ago.""
Maya nodded.
"She said she was giving me time to figure things out.""
I sat on the edge of the bed.
"Why didn't you call me?""
Maya stared at the carpet.
"Because she told me you were tired of supporting me.""
I felt sick.
"She told you that?""
"She said you wanted to focus on your retirement and that I was making things difficult.""
I closed my eyes.
My wife had used my name to make my daughter believe she was unwanted.
And she had done it while I was working.
I looked around the room.
The photograph of Angela.
The books Maya had bought with her own money.
The little desk where she studied late into the night.
I had promised her this room would always be hers.
Denise had apparently decided that promise no longer mattered.
I went downstairs.
My wife was standing near the kitchen counter, arranging flowers in a vase.
"Did you tell Maya I agreed to make her leave?""
Denise didn't turn around.
"I was trying to prepare her.""
"That wasn't my question.""
She placed another flower into the vase.
"Marcus, you need to understand that difficult conversations are sometimes necessary.""
"Did you tell her I agreed?""
She finally turned.
"She needed to understand that things couldn't continue this way.""
I stepped closer.
"Did you use my name to make her pack her belongings?""
Denise put down the scissors.
"You're making it sound terrible.""
"Because it is terrible.""
She sighed.
"She needs to grow up.""
I looked at her.
"Then why are Jordan and Brianna still living here?""
Denise's face hardened.
"You're obsessed with comparing them.""
"Because the difference is impossible to ignore.""
She walked past me.
"Jordan has a business opportunity.""
"What business?""
"He wants to start something online.""
"He's been saying that for two years.""
"Well, he needs time.""
"And Brianna?""
"She's looking for work.""
"She quit her job three months ago.""
Denise stopped.
Then she turned slowly.
"You know what, Marcus? Maybe you should start asking yourself why your daughter doesn't have a life outside this house.""
I stared at her.
"She's studying nursing.""
"Exactly. She's going to school, working, and coming home. That's not a life.""
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"She's building a career.""
"She's hiding here.""
I took a breath.
"Why does her existence bother you so much?""
Denise looked at me for a long moment.
Then she said something quietly.
"Because this house was supposed to be different.""
"What does that mean?""
She shook her head.
"Forget it.""
"No. Finish the sentence.""
She picked up her phone.
"I said forget it.""
Then she walked away.
I stood alone in the kitchen, listening to the refrigerator hum.
A few minutes later, Maya came downstairs.
She had changed into a clean sweater.
"Dad?""
I turned.
"Yes, sweetheart?""
"Can I stay with my friend Emily tonight?""
I frowned.
"Why?""
She looked toward the hallway.
"I don't want to make things worse.""
I walked over and took her hands.
"You are not making anything worse.""
She nodded, but I could see she wasn't convinced.
Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.
"There's something else.""
"What?""
She hesitated.
"Denise told me to delete some messages.""
I frowned.
"What messages?""
Maya unlocked her phone.
She opened a conversation and handed it to me.
It was a message exchange between her and Denise from three days earlier.
I read the first message.
*Denise:* You need to start looking for somewhere else to live.
*Maya:* Did Dad say something?
*Denise:* Your father doesn't need more stress. I'll handle it.
Then came another message.
*Denise:* And don't discuss this with him until you've made arrangements. He's too soft when it comes to you.
My hands tightened around the phone.
But the final message was what made my stomach turn.
*Denise:* If you tell him what happened with the money, you're going to regret it.
I looked up.
"Maya, what money?""
She swallowed.
"I don't know what she means.""
I stared at the screen.
Then I heard a door slam downstairs.
Jordan had arrived.
He walked into the house carrying a large shopping bag.
"Hey, Mom. Did you transfer the money?""
Denise appeared from the hallway.
"Not now, Jordan.""
He glanced at me.
Then at Maya.
His expression changed.
"What's going on?""
I looked directly at him.
"That's what I'd like to know.""
Jordan shifted the shopping bag from one hand to the other.
Then he said something I hadn't expected.
"Mom, you didn't tell him about the account?""
May you like
Denise froze.
And suddenly, I understood that the argument about Maya leaving might have been only the beginning.
