Chapter 4
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Mom was on one line.
Nia's teacher was on the other.
And I was standing in a training-center hallway six hours away, trying to solve another emergency I hadn't created.
“Don't call them,” Mom said quickly.
Ms. Grant's voice remained calm.
“Mrs. Carter, we're not trying to punish anyone. We have safety procedures.”
“I can get there.”
“How long?”
Silence.
“Denise?” I said.
Mom whispered, “Forty-five minutes.”
“School closed almost an hour ago.”
“I know.”
Ms. Grant said, “I can stay twenty.”
Mom's breathing got faster.
“I'll call Curtis.”
“You already said you thought Curtis was getting her,” I said.
“I'll call him again.”
I walked outside.
Cold wind hit my face.
“Mom, who is actually available?”
“My neighbor maybe.”
“Mrs. Jackson?”
“She moved.”
I didn't know that.
Of course I didn't.
I'd only been gone two days, but suddenly my old neighborhood already felt distant.
“What about Aunt Renee?”
Mom went quiet.
My aunt lived fifteen minutes from Nia's school.
“She and I aren't speaking.”
“I don't care.”
“Malik.”
“I don't care who you're mad at. Call her.”
Mom didn't answer.
So I did.
Aunt Renee picked up on the second ring.
“Baby, you make it to Chicago?”
“Yes, but I need a favor.”
“What happened?”
I told her.
She didn't ask questions.
“I'll be there in twelve minutes.”
Relief hit me so hard my knees felt weak.
“Thank you.”
“Put the school on.”
I gave Ms. Grant the information.
Aunt Renee was already listed as an approved emergency contact from years ago.
Twelve minutes later, she picked Nia up.
Problem solved.
Again.
Except this time, something had changed.
I didn't feel proud.
I felt furious.
Mom called that night.
I didn't answer.
She called twice more.
I finally sent a text.
Nia safe?
Mom replied immediately.
Yes.
That was all I needed.
At 7:30, Nia called from Aunt Renee's house.
She was eating spaghetti.
“Look,” she said, turning the camera toward the plate. “Garlic bread too.”
I smiled.
“Save me some.”
“You live in Chicago.”
“Mail it.”
She giggled.
Aunt Renee appeared behind her.
“Your brother needs to stop talking nonsense and finish his training.”
Nia rolled her eyes.
Then she ran off to show me a drawing.
Aunt Renee waited until Nia was out of earshot.
Her expression changed.
“What is going on in that apartment?”
I leaned back.
“What did Mom tell you?”
“Nothing. Your mother didn't call me. You did.”
“She forgot who was picking Nia up.”
“That ain't what I asked.”
I stared at the screen.
Aunt Renee had always been the person who noticed things nobody else wanted to admit.
After my father died, she had offered to let us stay with her.
Mom refused.
Said she didn't need charity.
Years later, when I started paying bills at eighteen, Aunt Renee told me I was doing too much.
I told her Mom needed help.
Maybe both of them had been right in different ways.
“Curtis isn't working,” I said.
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“He asked me for money last month.”
“For what?”
“Same story he gives everybody. Car trouble.”
I shook my head.
“He lied to Mom about quitting his job.”
“That sounds like Curtis.”
“And Mom used rent money on him.”
Aunt Renee closed her eyes.
“How much?”
“Enough that she's short.”
“Malik.”
“I didn't pay it.”
“Good.”
I blinked.
I hadn't expected that.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
“What about Nia?”
“What about her?”
“She lives there.”
“And Denise is her mother.”
I didn't answer.
Aunt Renee leaned closer to the screen.
“You hear me?”
“Yes.”
“You have spent years acting like that child's second parent.”
“She needs me.”
“She loves you. That is different.”
I felt defensive immediately.
“You weren't there every morning.”
“No, but I was there enough to see you miss things because somebody needed you.”
“I didn't miss anything.”
“You skipped your senior trip.”
“That didn't matter.”
“You turned down community college.”
“We couldn't afford it.”
“You never even filled out the financial aid paperwork because your mama needed you working.”
I looked away.
“That's old.”
“No. It's the pattern.”
My jaw tightened.
Aunt Renee softened her voice.
“I love your mother. But loving somebody doesn't mean pretending every choice they make is okay.”
I stared at the wall.
“I can't let Nia suffer.”
“I didn't say let her suffer.”
“Then what?”
“Let her mother feel the weight of being her mother.”
Those words stayed with me.
The next afternoon, Mom finally got the rent paid.
I found out from Nia.
“How?” I asked.
“Curtis sold his TV.”
I nearly laughed.
“The big one?”
“Yep.”
“What about his PlayStation?”
“He took it to his friend's house.”
Of course he did.
“Mom said Uncle Darnell loaned her the rest.”
I nodded.
So she had found a solution.
Without me.
It shouldn't have felt surprising.
But it did.
That evening, Curtis called.
“You happy now?”
“About what?”
“My TV.”
“I didn't sell it.”
“You told Mom to make me sell stuff.”
“I told Mom you should contribute.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You got everybody acting like I'm some bum.”
“You're unemployed and living on Mom's couch.”
“I got plans.”
“What plans?”
“I'm starting something.”
“What?”
“Business.”
“What business?”
He hesitated.
“Reselling.”
“Reselling what?”
“Shoes. Electronics. Stuff.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“With what money?”
Silence.
I already knew.
“Don't ask Mom.”
“I didn't.”
“Don't ask Nia.”
“What?”
“I know she has a little money saved.”
“You think I'd take money from a kid?”
“I didn't say take. I said don't ask.”
Curtis cursed.
“Chicago got you feeling real important.”
“No. Being away from home got me seeing things clearly.”
“You always hated me.”
That surprised me.
“I don't hate you.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I hate what you're doing.”
“Same thing.”
“No, it isn't.”
He was quiet.
Then his voice dropped.
“You think I wanted to be the screwup?”
I paused.
“You think I don't see how Mom looks at you?”
I almost laughed.
“How does she look at me?”
“Like you're the dependable one.”
“She told me I live there free.”
“That doesn't mean she doesn't depend on you.”
I sat down.
Curtis continued.
“Dad was always harder on me.”
Our father had died when I was twelve.
Curtis had been sixteen.
The memories were different for both of us.
“Dad expected you to do something,” I said.
“He expected me to be him.”
“No.”
“You were little. You don't remember.”
“I remember enough.”
“You remember the good stuff.”
I didn't answer.
Curtis exhaled.
“After he died, everybody looked at me like I was supposed to become the man of the house overnight.”
“You were sixteen.”
“Exactly.”
“And now you're twenty-four.”
Silence.
I regretted it as soon as I said it.
But I didn't take it back.
Curtis laughed once.
Cold.
“That's why I don't talk to you.”
“You called me.”
He hung up.
Three days passed.
I threw myself into training.
I learned to bend conduit.
Read diagrams.
Strip wire cleanly.
Identify breaker sizes.
I got shocked once by a training board because I got careless.
Mr. Harris stared at me afterward.
“Where was your head?”
“Home.”
“Home here?”
“No.”
He nodded slowly.
“Then leave it there before you walk into my workspace.”
I expected him to lecture me.
Instead he said, “Everybody has problems. Electricity doesn't care.”
That sentence changed something.
For the first time, I understood that protecting my future required attention.
I couldn't build a life if half my mind was constantly six hours away.
So I created a rule.
I would call Nia every night.
I would answer true emergencies.
Everything else could wait until after training.
For one week, it worked.
Mom didn't ask for money.
Curtis didn't call.
Nia sounded happier.
Then Friday came.
My first paycheck.
After taxes and deductions, it was more money than I had ever received at once.
I stared at the deposit.
For years, payday had meant calculating what everybody else needed.
Rent.
Food.
Internet.
Shoes.
Mom's medicine.
Curtis's gas.
Something always came first.
This time, I paid my own phone bill.
Bought groceries.
Put two hundred dollars into savings.
Then sent Nia twenty dollars through Mom with a message:
For the school book fair only.
Mom replied:
Thank you.
Nothing else.
I felt good.
Then Saturday morning, someone knocked on our apartment door in Chicago.
Andre opened it.
A man stood in the hallway holding one of my old duffel bags.
I stared at him.
It was Curtis.
“What are you doing here?”
He smiled like nothing had happened.
“Surprise.”
My stomach dropped.
“How did you get my address?”
“Mom.”
I stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind me.
“Why are you in Chicago?”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Things got complicated.”
“What things?”
“Me and Mom had a fight.”
“So?”
“So I'm staying here a few days.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
His smile faded.
“Come on.”
“No.”
“You got housing.”
“I have one roommate and one bedroom.”
“I'll sleep on the couch.”
“No.”
“Malik.”
“You drove six hours without asking me.”
“My car broke down halfway. I took a bus.”
“That doesn't make it better.”
His face hardened.
“You really gonna leave your own brother outside?”
“You should've called.”
“I knew you'd say no.”
“Then you knew the answer.”
For a moment, we just stared at each other.
Then Curtis said quietly, “Mom kicked me out.”
That stopped me.
“What happened?”
His jaw tightened.
“She found something.”
“What?”
He looked toward the apartment door.
Then back at me.
“She found out I used her name to open a credit card.”
Everything inside me went still.
“How much?”
Curtis didn't answer.
“How much?”
He looked at the floor.
“About four thousand.”
I stared at him.
He quickly added, “I was paying it back.”
“With what job?”
“I had a plan.”
“What did you buy?”
“Stuff to resell.”
“You stole Mom's identity.”
“Don't call it that.”
“What should I call it?”
“She would've helped me if I asked.”
“But you didn't ask.”
“I was going to fix it before she knew.”
I couldn't speak.
Then Curtis said the sentence that made my blood run cold.
“She found another card too.”
“Another card?”
He nodded.
“But that one's not in her name.”
I already knew.
I didn't want to know.
“Whose?”
May you like
Curtis looked at me.
“Nia's.”
