Chapter 4
I couldn’t open the letter at first.
My fingers wouldn’t move.
Tasha sat beside me, crying quietly.
Aunt Cheryl placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Take your time.”
But I didn’t want time.
Time was what everyone had used to bury the truth.
I tore the envelope open.
Inside was one page.
Blue ink.
Careful handwriting.
Baby boy,
If you are reading this, then I did not get to tell you myself.
My name is Denise Ellis. I am your mother.
I am seventeen, scared, tired, and holding you while you sleep on my chest. You have the loudest cry I ever heard and the softest little hands.
I don’t know what will happen to me. The doctors say I’m sick, but they are trying. If I don’t make it, I want you to know I loved you before I knew your face.
I asked Patricia to look after you if something happens. She is bossy, stubborn, and acts like she knows everything, but she has a good heart. If she raises you, listen to her. But also know this:
You were never unwanted.
You were never a mistake.
You were my brave thing.
Love,
Mama Denise
By the time I reached the end, I could not see.
Tasha had both hands over her mouth.
Aunt Cheryl wiped her eyes with a tissue.
I folded the letter carefully.
My brave thing.
I had spent my whole life thinking my mother chose me.
Now I knew another mother had loved me first.
The feeling was too big.
Too confusing.
Too painful.
I stood and walked into Aunt Cheryl’s kitchen.
Tasha followed.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Dumb question.”
“Yeah.”
She leaned against the counter.
“You’re still my brother.”
I looked at her.
“You don’t know that.”
Her face twisted.
“Yes, I do. You stole my Halloween candy for ten years. Blood can’t undo that.”
I laughed.
It came out like a sob.
She hugged me hard.
Aunt Cheryl joined us, holding another document.
“There’s more.”
I pulled back.
“Of course there is.”
She handed me the paper.
It was a will.
Denise Ellis had nothing when she died.
No house.
No savings.
No car.
But there was one section marked “claim.”
A pending civil settlement.
I looked up.
“What is this?”
Aunt Cheryl’s mouth tightened.
“Denise got hurt before she gave birth. Worked at a packaging plant. They had her lifting heavy boxes while pregnant. She fainted. Fell. Hospital said it contributed to the infection later. There was a lawsuit.”
My heart pounded.
“What happened to it?”
“Settled after she died.”
“For how much?”
Aunt Cheryl hesitated.
“Two hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
The room went silent.
Tasha whispered, “What?”
I gripped the paper.
“Where did it go?”
Aunt Cheryl looked toward the living room, like my mother might appear there.
“Patricia was named temporary guardian of you. The money was supposed to be placed in trust until you turned twenty-one.”
I was twenty-two.
My mouth went dry.
“I never got a trust.”
“I know.”
I stared at her.
“Did Mom take it?”
Aunt Cheryl didn’t answer fast enough.
I stepped back.
“No.”
“She used some to care for you,” Aunt Cheryl said quickly. “Doctors, childcare, food, rent.”
“Some?”
“She and Marcus bought the house three years later.”
The house.
The kitchen.
The place where my father had stood over her.
The place where my whole life had been built.
My mother bought it with money from my dead mother’s settlement?
I grabbed the counter.
Tasha whispered, “Andre…”
I couldn’t breathe.
Aunt Cheryl said, “I told Patricia to tell you when you turned eighteen. Then twenty-one. She kept saying she would.”
“But she didn’t.”
“No.”
My phone buzzed again.
Ma.
This time, I answered.
Her voice came broken.
“Andre, please come home.”
I looked at Denise’s letter in my hand.
“Did you spend my trust?”
Silence.
May you like
Then my mother began to cry.
That was answer enough.
