Chapter 6 - Twelve Months BackwardMarcus waited until Jaylen left for kindergarten before he confronted Nia.
He placed the petition on the kitchen table with the retroactive-support paragraph highlighted.
“Twelve months.”
Nia stared at the yellow line.
“I was going to explain.”
“When?”
“I didn’t understand exactly how that worked.”
“You requested it.”
“It was one of the boxes.”
“You checked it.”
“They told me courts sometimes calculate from when support should have started.”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“When should support have started?”
Nia rubbed her forehead.
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
“Marcus.”
“No. Tell me the month.”
She said nothing.
“The month I should have started paying for my child.”
“You have always paid.”
“Then why ask a judge for another year?”
“I thought they would subtract what you already provided.”
Marcus stopped.
That possibility had not occurred to him.
“What?”
“The woman I spoke to said documentation matters. I assumed they would look at what you paid.”
“Then why write ‘inconsistent support’?”
Nia’s eyes flashed with embarrassment.
“I don’t know.”
“That answer is getting expensive.”
She stood.
“You think I was trying to steal from you?”
“I think you wanted the strongest possible case.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No. But right now I don’t know where the difference ends.”
Nia’s anger rose.
“You have a lawyer now. Congratulations. You get to feel powerful.”
“This isn’t power.”
“You always have somebody to call. Money to hire professionals. Savings I didn’t know existed.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“I hired a lawyer because you filed legal papers.”
“You could have talked to me.”
Marcus stared.
Then he laughed once.
Nia immediately knew why.
“That sounded ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
She sank back into the chair.
“I’m scared.”
“So am I.”
The honesty changed the air.
Marcus sat opposite her.
“I’m scared because I don’t know which version of our life you believe.”
Nia looked at him.
“I’m scared because you’re capable of leaving and being fine.”
Marcus frowned.
“So this is about the difference between us.”
“It’s always been partly about that.”
“What difference?”
“You recover faster.”
“From what?”
“Anything.”
Marcus leaned back.
Nia continued.
“If we break up, you still have your career. Your savings. Your retirement. Your credit. You can rent somewhere tomorrow.”
“And you think you can’t?”
“My income is lower.”
“Not dramatically.”
“My retirement is almost nothing.”
“That’s fixable.”
“Jaylen’s schedule makes overtime harder for me.”
“I take him.”
“Because we live together.”
Marcus understood.
Nia was not imagining poverty.
She was imagining instability.
That did not make what she had done right.
But it made it less incomprehensible.
“Why didn’t you say any of this?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Every time I asked where this relationship was going.”
Marcus looked away.
That was true.
For years, when Nia asked about marriage, Marcus had answered with practicalities.
Let’s get debt down.
Let’s build savings.
Let’s wait until Jaylen’s older.
Let’s get out of the apartment first.
He had thought those answers meant responsibility.
To Nia they may have sounded like delay.
“I should’ve been clearer,” he admitted.
She looked up.
“But I still wouldn’t have agreed to this.”
“I know.”
Marcus tapped the retroactive-support section.
“I need you to amend anything inaccurate.”
Nia nodded reluctantly.
“I’ll call.”
“Today.”
She looked at him.
“Today.”
Marcus went to work.
At lunch, Dana called.
“The retroactive request is not automatically disastrous,” she said. “Your documentation matters. But there’s something else.”
“What?”
“She listed estimated monthly child expenses.”
Marcus opened the scanned copy.
“I saw that.”
“Some appear duplicated with household expenses you already pay.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means whoever helped prepare this may have treated shared expenses as if Ms. Brooks personally pays all of them.”
Marcus frowned.
“Can she get in trouble?”
“I’m not going to speculate. What matters is correcting inaccuracies.”
Marcus looked through the numbers.
Daycare: $600.
Food allocation: $450.
Housing allocation for child: $700.
Medical insurance: $280.
He paused.
“I pay Jaylen’s insurance through work.”
“I noticed.”
Marcus’s expression hardened.
“Why would she list it as her expense?”
“Ask her.”
He did.
That evening, Nia stared at the form.
“I didn’t fill those numbers.”
“What?”
“The volunteer helped me.”
“You gave her the information.”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell her I carry the insurance?”
“I told her we have coverage.”
“Did you say who pays?”
“I don’t remember.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
Nia’s phone buzzed.
She looked at it.
Her face changed.
“Who is it?”
She hesitated.
“Aunt Yolanda.”
“Answer.”
Nia did.
Yolanda’s voice came through clearly enough for Marcus to hear.
“Nia, I need you to call me before you change anything in that petition.”
Nia stiffened.
“Why?”
A pause.
Then Yolanda said, “Because there’s something about the paperwork I should have told you before you filed.”
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Marcus and Nia looked at each other.
For once, both of them were equally unprepared.
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