Chapter 2
Dad’s expression softened.
“Hey, buddy.”
Then he looked back at me.
And asked the question I had been dreading.
“Where’s your car?”
I stared at the pavement.
“My mother-in-law has it.”
Dad waited.
I hated that silence because it made lies harder.
“She took it,” I finally said.
His face went still.
“What do you mean she took it?”
“She has the keys.”
“The SUV you bought after Lucas was born?”
I nodded.
The car had been my idea.
After Lucas was born, I wanted something safer than my old sedan. I made the down payment with money I had saved before maternity leave. Every monthly payment had come from my account.
But the registration had been put under Daniel’s name.
At the time, I had not cared.
He was my husband.
We were a family.
Why would it matter whose name was printed on a document?
Six months later, I understood exactly why details like that mattered.
“Why does Marlene have your keys?” Dad asked.
I swallowed.
“She said I don’t deserve to use it.”
His voice became quieter.
“What happened?”
I tried to make it sound reasonable.
That had become a habit.
Daniel lost his job six months earlier.
The company where he worked had cut his entire department, and within three weeks we could no longer afford the rent on our apartment without draining our savings.
His parents had a large house outside town.
Marlene offered us the finished rooms upstairs until Daniel found another position.
At first, I had been grateful.
Then gratitude became obligation.
Obligation became control.
Marlene said we needed to save money.
She said I drove too much.
She said gas was expensive.
She said I treated the SUV like a luxury when Daniel was unemployed.
She said walking would be good for me.
Dad looked down at my ankle.
“She knows you’re injured?”
I said nothing.
His jaw tightened.
“How far is the grocery store?”
“About a mile.”
“With Lucas?”
“I had the stroller.”
“Where is it?”
“One wheel jammed halfway there.”
Dad went silent.
Then he asked, “Where’s Daniel?”
“At home.”
The pain that crossed my father’s face was worse than anger.
“Daniel let you do this?”
“He’s under a lot of pressure.”
Dad looked straight at me.
“Pressure doesn’t make a man blind, Elena.”
I had no answer.
Because somewhere underneath all the excuses I had repeated for six months, I knew he was right.