Chapter 5 - The Family Photograph
Marcus slept on the couch that night.
Keisha did not return.
Jordan heard his father moving downstairs long after midnight, opening cabinets, walking from room to room, doing everything except coming upstairs.
By morning, the family photograph was gone.
Jordan noticed immediately.
The picture had hung beside the living-room bookshelf for nine years.
Eight-year-old Jordan sat on Marcus’s shoulders outside the city recreation center. Marcus wore an old North Ridge alumni sweatshirt. Jordan held a cheap plastic trophy from his first youth tournament.
Now there was only a pale rectangle on the wall.
Jordan stared.
Marcus entered carrying a laundry basket.
Jordan pointed.
“Where is it?”
Marcus followed his gaze.
“Oh.”
“Where?”
“I took it down.”
“Why?”
Marcus set the basket on the floor.
“I thought maybe the room needed changing.”
Jordan laughed once.
“This morning?”
“It’s a picture.”
“Exactly.”
Marcus’s face hardened.
“Don’t turn everything into symbolism.”
Jordan looked at him.
“You took down the picture the morning after I found out you’ve been planning a house without me.”
Marcus exhaled.
“I didn’t say without you.”
Jordan walked toward the bookshelf.
The photo frame was not there.
“You said I’d have a room.”
“You would.”
“That’s how people talk about guests.”
“You’re twisting my words.”
Jordan turned.
“No, Dad. I finally started listening to them.”
Marcus picked up the laundry basket.
Jordan stepped closer.
“Where’s the picture?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Bedroom closet.”
Jordan walked past him.
“Jordan.”
He kept going.
Marcus followed.
Jordan opened the closet in Marcus’s bedroom.
The framed photograph lay face down on a shelf.
Beside it was a thick white envelope.
Jordan recognized the logo printed in the corner.
HARRISON & VALE REALTY.
He looked at Marcus.
Marcus stepped forward.
“Give me that.”
Jordan grabbed the envelope first.
Inside was a comparative market analysis for the Walker house.
Estimated value: $468,000.
Proposed listing window: June.
Jordan’s graduation was May twenty-ninth.
His hands went cold.
“You already met with a realtor.”
Marcus closed the closet door behind them.
“It was information.”
“There’s a proposed listing date.”
“Proposed.”
“June third.”
Marcus said nothing.
Jordan flipped another page.
A handwritten note appeared near the bottom.
Buyer goal: new construction with K.G.
Jordan looked up.
“Keisha Grant.”
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“We were looking.”
“At houses.”
“Possibly.”
“After selling this one.”
“Yes.”
Jordan stared at him.
“What happens to the equity?”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed.
“Why does that matter?”
“I’m asking.”
“That is adult financial business.”
Jordan’s anger returned.
“Apparently adult financial business keeps deciding my life.”
Marcus reached for the papers.
Jordan moved them away.
“Don’t.”
“This is my house.”
Jordan froze.
Marcus immediately regretted it.
Jordan looked around Marcus’s bedroom, then toward the hallway.
“Your house.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No.”
Jordan handed him the papers.
“You’re right.”
Marcus’s shoulders dropped.
“Jordan.”
“Mom left you this house in the divorce because you said staying here would give me stability.”
Marcus stared.
Jordan remembered the arguments from years earlier.
He had been twelve.
His mother, Alicia Walker, had accepted a hospital administration position in Raleigh after the divorce. Jordan chose to remain with Marcus because North Ridge’s school district and basketball program meant everything to him.
Alicia had agreed Marcus could keep the house.
Jordan had heard her say one sentence through a half-closed door.
If Jordan stays, I want one home in his life that doesn’t disappear.
Jordan looked at the realtor packet.
“Did Mom know?”
Marcus didn’t answer.
Jordan pulled out his phone.
Marcus stepped forward.
“Don’t call your mother in the middle of this.”
“Why?”
“Because she’ll make it worse.”
Jordan laughed.
“Worse for who?”
Marcus’s expression hardened.
“Your mother and I have history you don’t understand.”
“That sentence is getting old.”
Jordan dialed.
Alicia answered on the second ring.
“Champ!”
Her voice was bright.
“I saw the highlights. Twenty-eight points? I almost woke your uncle screaming.”
Jordan’s throat tightened.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You okay?”
He looked at Marcus.
“No.”
Alicia became quiet.
“What happened?”
Jordan asked one question.
“Did you know Dad was selling the house?”
Silence.
Marcus closed his eyes.
Alicia’s voice changed completely.
“What?”
Jordan felt the answer land.
“No.”
Marcus took the phone.
“Alicia—”
She spoke so loudly Jordan heard her without the speaker.
“You are selling that house?”
“I am considering options.”
“You told me that house was Jordan’s stability.”
“He graduates this year.”
“So your promise expired?”
Marcus turned away.
“That isn’t fair.”
Alicia laughed bitterly.
“I signed away my equity claim because you said keeping Jordan rooted mattered more than money.”
Jordan stared at Marcus.
That part he had never known.
Marcus went still.
Jordan took the phone back.
“Mom.”
Alicia’s breathing was tight.
“How much equity?”
Jordan looked at Marcus.
Marcus’s face told him not to answer.
“Four hundred sixty-eight thousand estimated value.”
Alicia became silent again.
Then she said something that changed the room.
“Ask your father how much he still owes on it.”
Jordan frowned.
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Why?”
Alicia answered.
“Because when we divorced, that mortgage balance was under one hundred sixty thousand.”
Jordan looked at the realtor packet.
A financing sheet had been clipped behind it.
Current estimated mortgage payoff:
$287,400.
Jordan stared.
More than $120,000 had appeared somewhere.
He slowly looked at his father.
“Where did the money go?”
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Marcus sat down on the edge of his bed.
For the first time, Jordan realized the empty seat in the gym might be connected to an empty space much larger than a chair.
