Chapter 22 - Paying Grandma First
Marcus transferred the $2,700 vehicle contribution on Friday.
Jordan received the notification while eating cereal.
Alicia sat across from him.
“Your face changed.”
“He paid.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
Jordan immediately opened his banking app.
“What are you doing?”
“Sending it to Grandma.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“Jordan, she said monthly payments were fine.”
“I know.”
He transferred the full amount.
Memo:
Oldsmobile Rule.
Alicia laughed.
“What does that mean?”
“She’ll know.”
Lillian called twelve seconds later.
“What did you do?”
Jordan grinned.
“Paid my debt.”
“You little fool.”
“That’s rude.”
“I told you one-fifty a month.”
“And I found another way.”
“That money is from your father.”
“It’s legally mine.”
“Keep it.”
“No.”
“Jordan.”
“Grandma.”
Silence.
Then Lillian sighed.
“You inherited stubbornness from both sides.”
“Probably.”
Her voice softened.
“I’m proud of you.”
Jordan stopped smiling.
Not because he disliked it.
Because the words reached somewhere tender.
“Thanks.”
“And I’m proud of your father for paying what he owed.”
Jordan frowned.
“You can say both?”
“Yes.”
“That seems illegal.”
Lillian laughed.
“People can do wrong and then do one right thing. The right thing does not erase the wrong one.”
Jordan leaned back.
“You always talk like a greeting card?”
“Only when I’m expensive.”
They hung up.
That afternoon Jordan and Darius inspected the Accord.
It had decent tires.
A slight oil seep.
Front brake pads nearing replacement.
Jordan crawled beneath it with a flashlight.
Darius crouched nearby.
“Well?”
“Four-nine is too high.”
Darius groaned.
“What’s fair?”
“Forty-two, maybe forty-four.”
The owner crossed his arms.
“I’m not taking forty-two.”
Jordan stood.
“Brake job’s coming. Valve-cover gasket is leaking. Rear strut is weak.”
The owner stared at him.
“You a mechanic?”
“Not yet.”
Darius whispered, “He says that like a threat.”
The owner laughed despite himself.
After twenty minutes, they settled at $4,450.
Darius had three thousand from himself and Keisha.
Still short.
He looked disappointed.
Jordan said, “Walk away if you don’t have it.”
“I know.”
The owner said he could hold it forty-eight hours.
On the drive home, Darius stared out the window.
“I thought my dad would send the five hundred.”
“He didn’t?”
“No.”
Jordan glanced at him.
“Did he say why?”
“Stopped answering.”
Jordan’s grip tightened on the wheel.
Darius noticed.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t feel sorry for me.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Jordan smiled.
“Maybe.”
Darius shook his head.
“I’ll find another car.”
Jordan nodded.
Then his phone rang through Bluetooth.
Marcus.
Darius looked at the dashboard.
“You gonna answer?”
Jordan hesitated.
Then did.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
Marcus sounded nervous.
“Bad time?”
“I’m driving.”
“I can call later.”
“What do you need?”
Marcus paused.
“The duplex closed.”
Jordan glanced at Darius.
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“Everything paid?”
“Your accounts, yes. Simone should get confirmation tomorrow.”
Jordan’s chest loosened slightly.
“And?”
“And after liens and costs, I lost about nineteen thousand.”
Jordan said nothing.
Marcus laughed without humor.
“Thought you should know.”
“Why?”
“Because I used to only tell you numbers that made me look competent.”
Jordan swallowed.
“That’s a weird reason.”
“I’m practicing.”
Darius looked out the window, pretending not to listen.
Jordan asked, “Are you okay?”
Marcus went silent.
The question surprised both of them.
“Not really.”
Jordan’s grip tightened.
“Sorry.”
“Thank you.”
A pause.
Marcus said, “I heard you were helping Darius look at a car.”
Jordan glanced sideways.
Darius mouthed: How?
Jordan mouthed back: Everybody talks.
Marcus continued.
“Keisha mentioned it to Tiana.”
Of course.
“What about it?”
“I want to help.”
Darius’s head snapped toward the speaker.
Jordan’s stomach tightened.
“How?”
“I owe Darius an apology too.”
“That’s not how.”
Marcus exhaled.
“I could cover what he’s short.”
Jordan immediately said, “No.”
Darius looked at him.
Marcus went quiet.
Jordan continued.
“You don’t get to repeat the driveway in reverse.”
“That isn’t what I’m doing.”
“Then don’t buy him forgiveness.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re trying.”
Silence.
Marcus asked, “What would be appropriate?”
Jordan almost said nothing.
Then stopped.
This was new.
Marcus had asked.
Not decided.
Jordan looked at Darius.
“What do you think?”
Darius blinked.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Darius leaned toward the phone.
“Mr. Marcus?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m short fourteen-fifty.”
“I can pay that.”
Jordan winced.
Darius continued.
“But I don’t want you to.”
Marcus went quiet.
“I’d take five hundred.”
Jordan glanced over.
Darius shrugged.
“Same amount my dad said he would send.”
Marcus asked, “Why five?”
“Because I can make up the rest.”
Jordan felt something warm in his chest.
Marcus said, “Okay.”
No argument.
No upgrade.
No bow.
“Okay?” Darius repeated.
“Yes.”
Darius smiled cautiously.
“Thanks.”
Marcus replied, “You’re welcome.”
Then he added:
“And I’ll send it to your mother, not you.”
Darius looked surprised.
“Okay.”
Jordan smiled.
Marcus was learning.
Slowly.
Painfully.
But learning.
After the call, Darius looked at Jordan.
“That was weird.”
“Extremely.”
“You told him no like you’re his dad.”
“Shut up.”
Darius laughed.
Two days later, Keisha contributed Marcus’s five hundred to the Accord.
Darius found extra money from savings.
He bought it.
No bow.
Jordan helped replace the front brake pads in Alicia’s driveway.
When they finished, Darius held up his keys.
“Picture?”
Jordan stared.
“Why?”
“So one day when we’re old we can remember our cheap cars.”
Jordan laughed.
Alicia took the photo.
Two young men.
Two used cars.
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Two sets of keys.
No one standing behind them demanding gratitude.
