Chapter 14 - His Name, His Signature
Malcolm read the Bellweather offer three times before signing.
Not because he doubted the job.
Because the act itself had become symbolic.
Malcolm Reed.
His own fingers.
His own decision.
His own future.
Andre stood behind him holding two mugs.
“You gonna frame that signature?”
Malcolm smiled.
“Might.”
He clicked Accept.
A confirmation appeared.
Welcome to Bellweather Strategic Systems.
Malcolm leaned back.
He expected triumph.
Instead, his chest hurt.
Andre sat opposite him.
“You good?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s allowed.”
“I should be celebrating.”
“You are.”
“I’m sitting in your apartment surrounded by evidence that my girlfriend has been manipulating my life for three years.”
Andre nodded.
“Also true.”
Malcolm rubbed his eyes.
“This job doesn’t undo anything.”
“No.”
“But it proves she was wrong.”
Andre frowned.
“About what?”
“That success automatically means I leave everybody behind.”
Andre studied him.
“You haven’t even started yet.”
“I know.”
“So don’t turn the job into an argument with Tasha.”
Malcolm looked at him.
Andre continued.
“Take it because you want it. Not because it proves something.”
Malcolm smiled faintly.
“When did you get wise?”
“I’ve always been wise. You’re just emotionally available now.”
Malcolm laughed.
Then the doorbell rang.
Andre’s smile disappeared.
He checked the camera.
“Tasha.”
Malcolm stood.
“I told her not to come.”
“You want me to send her away?”
Malcolm looked at the screen.
Tasha stood outside holding a cardboard box.
“No.”
Andre opened the door but did not invite her in.
Tasha looked past him.
“Malcolm?”
He approached.
“I asked you not to come here.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“What’s in the box?”
“Your things.”
“What things?”
“Everything I found at the apartment that’s yours.”
Malcolm stared.
“I didn’t want you thinking I was keeping anything else.”
Andre stepped aside enough for her to place the box inside.
Tasha noticed the printed Bellweather offer on the table.
Her face changed.
“You got it.”
Malcolm said nothing.
A small smile appeared through her tears.
“I knew you would.”
Andre folded his arms.
Malcolm looked at her.
“No, you didn’t.”
Tasha’s smile vanished.
“If you knew I could get it, you wouldn’t have canceled the interview.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“I know.”
She looked down.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
A painful silence followed.
Tasha touched the empty ring finger of her left hand, an old nervous habit.
“We need to talk about the apartment.”
“I disputed the renewal.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Management contacted me.”
“And?”
“I told them you didn’t authorize your signature.”
Malcolm paused.
“You admitted it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s true.”
For the first time in days, Malcolm felt something other than anger.
Not trust.
But recognition.
“That helps.”
“I also emailed you a statement saying I signed it.”
He checked his phone.
There it was.
Tasha continued.
“I told them I’d cooperate with ending the renewal if they let us finish the current lease.”
“That’s reasonable.”
“I moved the savings back too.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
Malcolm checked.
$13,620 had returned.
He exhaled.
“Thank you.”
Tasha almost smiled.
Then Malcolm added, “That doesn’t fix the relationship.”
“I know.”
Her eyes filled.
“I’m trying not to fix it.”
He looked at her.
“That’s what my therapist said.”
“You’ve gone?”
“Twice.”
“In three days?”
“She had a cancellation.”
Malcolm nodded.
Tasha looked at the Bellweather offer.
“Is it a lot more money?”
“That isn’t your concern anymore.”
The words hurt her.
He saw it.
But she nodded.
“You’re right.”
She started to leave.
Then stopped.
“There’s something in the box.”
Malcolm’s body stiffened.
“It’s not another secret.”
“That sentence doesn’t help.”
“I know.”
She swallowed.
“It’s a notebook your mother gave me.”
Malcolm stared.
“What notebook?”
“Before she died.”
“Why did she give you a notebook?”
“She didn’t exactly give it to me.”
Andre’s expression hardened.
“Tasha.”
“She left it at our apartment after one of her visits.”
“And you kept it?” Malcolm asked.
“I forgot about it.”
“No.”
Tasha closed her eyes.
“No.”
“Why did you keep it?”
“Because there was something inside about me.”
Malcolm stepped toward the box.
Tasha spoke quickly.
“I never destroyed it.”
He opened the cardboard flaps.
At the bottom lay a blue spiral notebook.
He recognized it instantly.
His mother used those notebooks for grocery lists, prayers, bills and random thoughts.
Malcolm picked it up.
A folded page marked a section near the middle.
He opened it.
Denise’s handwriting covered both sides.
The first line read:
Something about Tasha’s fear is becoming dangerous for Malcolm.
Malcolm stopped breathing.
Andre moved closer.
The entry was dated five months before Denise’s diagnosis.
His mother had written several observations.
Tasha calling about jobs Malcolm never mentioned.
Tasha asking Denise to discourage relocation.
The fake email to Marcus.
Then one line Malcolm read twice.
I worry she mistakes being needed for being loved.
His throat tightened.
Tasha stood at the doorway crying.
“She knew.”
Malcolm looked up.
“Yes.”
“I hated that page.”
“So you hid it.”
“Yes.”
“You let me spend two years without something my mother wrote.”
“I’m sorry.”
Malcolm’s voice turned cold.
“You stole her voice too.”
Tasha covered her mouth.
Andre stepped toward her.
“Leave.”
She nodded.
Before walking away, she looked at Malcolm.
“I know you may never forgive me.”
He said nothing.
“I’m not asking you to.”
The door closed.
Malcolm sat with the notebook.
Andre remained beside him.
There were more pages after the marked entry.
Dozens.
Malcolm turned them carefully.
Most were ordinary.
Recipes.
Bible verses.
Names.
Bills.
Then, near the back, he found his own name.
For Malcolm, if I don’t get the chance to say this right.
He froze.
Andre saw it.
“What?”
Malcolm touched the words.
His mother had written him something.
Something she might have intended to say after discovering Tasha’s manipulation.
Something she had never lived long enough to explain in person.
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Malcolm began reading.
And by the second sentence, he realized Denise had understood far more about his relationship than either son had ever known.
