Chapter 4 - The Missing Two Hundred
Raymond recovered quickly.
Too quickly.
“I heard y’all talking.”
“You were outside.”
“I came in.”
“I didn’t see you.”
Raymond rolled his eyes.
“Tanya, seriously?”
She looked toward the stairs again.
“You have Malik’s bedroom key?”
“No.”
“Did you take money from his jar?”
Raymond laughed.
“This is what your sister does. She comes in here, turns everybody against everybody, and suddenly I’m a thief.”
“I asked you a question.”
“And I answered.”
“No. You changed the subject.”
His expression cooled.
“You starting to sound like Malik.”
For years, Tanya had heard sentences like that and interpreted them as frustration.
That morning, they sounded different.
Like instructions about who she was allowed to believe.
“I’m going to work,” she said.
“We need to finish the equity application.”
“Not today.”
“The rate quote expires.”
“Then let it.”
Raymond stared.
“You said we agreed.”
“We agreed before last night.”
“So your son throws a tantrum and now our plans change?”
Tanya grabbed her purse.
“My son found out I used his money for your car.”
“Our money.”
“No.”
The word surprised both of them.
Tanya walked out.
At Yvette’s house, Malik arranged his belongings in the small spare bedroom.
Two duffel bags.
One backpack.
His work shoes.
The savings jar.
That was how quickly a life could shrink when a key stopped working.
Yvette knocked.
“Breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re twenty. You still need food when you’re angry.”
He followed her downstairs.
She had already opened her laptop.
“Sit.”
Malik looked suspiciously at the screen.
“What are we doing?”
“Separating facts from feelings.”
“I know how I feel.”
“That’s why we need facts.”
She created four columns.
Date. Amount. Stated purpose. Evidence.
Malik watched.
“You planning a court case?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because families lie to themselves more efficiently than strangers do.”
He sat.
They started with the first month.
Malik remembered Tanya standing in the same kitchen, telling him that adulthood meant paying his share.
He had just turned eighteen.
Raymond had been dating Tanya for six months.
“I gave her four hundred cash.”
“What did she say it covered?”
“Room, utilities, groceries.”
“Reasonable on paper,” Yvette said.
Malik frowned.
“You defending her?”
“I’m being accurate. Four hundred dollars for room and board isn’t automatically exploitation.”
“Raymond paid zero.”
“That changes the fairness. It doesn’t change the math.”
Malik leaned back.
He appreciated that she was not simply telling him what he wanted to hear.
Yvette continued.
“The problem isn’t just that you paid. It’s whether you were lied to, singled out, or manipulated.”
“And whether my money funded him.”
“Yes.”
They worked for nearly three hours.
When Malik was uncertain, Yvette marked the entry uncertain.
When he remembered buying groceries separately, she noted it.
When his bank app showed ATM withdrawals matching rent dates, she took screenshots.
Twenty-two months.
$8,800 in scheduled rent.
About $740 in extra utility requests.
Malik stared at the figure.
“Nearly ten grand.”
“Over almost two years.”
“I made maybe twenty-seven thousand after taxes last year.”
Yvette’s fingers stopped.
“That matters.”
His phone rang.
Tanya.
He let it ring twice.
Then answered.
“What?”
“Did you take your birth certificate?”
Malik frowned.
“No.”
“Social Security card?”
“No.”
“I’m putting your documents together.”
“Why?”
“Because apparently you’ve moved out.”
There was bitterness in the word apparently.
Malik looked at Yvette.
“I need them for school.”
“I know.”
Pause.
“Malik?”
“What?”
“I didn’t take the two hundred dollars.”
He closed his eyes.
“Okay.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
His own words from earlier returned to him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Tanya said, “Raymond says he heard us talking about the jar.”
Malik sat straighter.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“He was outside when I mentioned it.”
“I know.”
Malik’s stomach tightened.
“Mom.”
“Don’t.”
“Did he have my key?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Long silence.
“Tanya?” Yvette said from across the table.
Tanya heard her.
Her voice sharpened.
“Why is she listening?”
“Because I’m in her kitchen.”
“So this is what we’re doing now? Family meetings without me?”
Malik looked down at the spreadsheet.
“You changed the locks.”
Another silence.
Finally Tanya said, “I’ll call later.”
She hung up.
At work that evening, Malik was shelving boxed tools when his supervisor, Mr. Grant, found him staring at the same inventory label.
“You with us tonight?”
Malik blinked.
“Sorry.”
“You want your break?”
“I’m okay.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Malik went outside.
His phone had three new notifications.
One came from his bank.
The second from Jefferson Community College.
The third was a text from an unknown number.
He opened Jefferson’s message first.
Spring priority financial-aid deadline approaching. Complete contributor information to avoid delays.
Malik’s chest tightened.
Then he opened the unknown text.
A photograph loaded.
It showed his college savings jar.
Taken inside his bedroom.
Before he had emptied it.
Below the photograph were six words.
Ask your mother what she promised.
Malik stared at the screen.
Then noticed something reflected in the dresser mirror behind the jar.
A black shirt.
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A shaved head.
Raymond.
