Chapter 7 - Eight Thousand Seven Hundred Forty-Two Dollars
They returned to the apartment at midnight.
Tasha placed the termination letter and final-pay statement on the kitchen table.
Malcolm stood across from her.
Kendra remained by the door.
“Where did the eight thousand seven hundred forty-two dollars go?” Tasha asked.
Malcolm rubbed his palms.
“Some went to the house.”
“How much?”
“Five.”
“Five thousand?”
“Yes.”
“And the rest?”
“Bills.”
Tasha pointed around the apartment.
“Which ones?”
He said nothing.
Kendra closed the door.
“We’re not leaving until you stop answering questions with silence.”
Malcolm glared.
“This isn’t an interrogation.”
Tasha’s voice was exhausted.
“It shouldn’t have to be.”
He sat.
“Credit cards.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“I know about two.”
“There’s another one.”
“In your name?”
“Yes.”
“Balance?”
“About sixty-eight hundred.”
Tasha laughed helplessly.
“What did you buy?”
“Stuff.”
“Malcolm.”
He looked ashamed.
“When Dad died, I started spending.”
His father had died eighteen months earlier.
Tasha remembered Malcolm’s grief.
The long silences.
The sudden fascination with expensive sneakers.
The promises that work bonuses covered everything.
“You told me those cards were paid off.”
“I paid them down.”
“Then ran them back up.”
“Yes.”
“How much of your final check went to the hidden card?”
“About twenty-eight hundred.”
“And the rest?”
“Storage. Inventory. Minimum payments.”
Tasha stood.
“So you lost your job in August with eight thousand dollars in debt.”
“Yes.”
“You had already borrowed three thousand from Kendra.”
“Yes.”
“You had already been sending our savings to your mother.”
“Yes.”
“And you still took an eighteen-thousand-dollar loan in my name.”
Malcolm’s voice cracked.
“I thought the refinance would solve everything.”
There it was.
The fantasy.
One big move.
One closing.
One check.
One miracle that would erase every smaller betrayal.
“You gambled our life on paperwork you had never even seen.”
“It wasn’t gambling.”
“What would you call it?”
“Trusting my mother.”
Tasha shook her head.
“No.”
She pointed at herself.
“You gambled my credit.”
She pointed toward Kendra.
“Her money.”
Then toward the bedroom.
“Our rent.”
“And now that your mother lied to you, suddenly you understand betrayal.”
Malcolm looked up sharply.
“That’s not fair.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Tasha’s eyes filled.
“Intent is not magic, Malcolm.”
He looked away.
“It doesn’t make consequences disappear.”
Kendra quietly picked up her purse.
Tasha glanced at her.
“You leaving?”
“I think you need space.”
Tasha nodded.
Kendra looked at Malcolm before opening the door.
“You owe me three thousand dollars.”
“I know.”
“No. You owe me three thousand dollars.”
She pointed to Tasha.
“What you owe her doesn’t have a number yet.”
After Kendra left, the apartment felt enormous.
Malcolm sat at the table.
Tasha remained standing.
“You’re sleeping on the couch.”
He nodded.
“I’m changing the banking passwords.”
He looked up.
“Tasha—”
“For my personal accounts.”
“I never touched your personal account.”
“You used my pay stubs and Social Security number.”
He stopped arguing.
“I’m freezing my credit tomorrow.”
Malcolm swallowed.
“You’re really going to report the loan.”
“I’m going to talk to someone who knows what I should do.”
“A lawyer?”
“Yes.”
Fear moved across his face.
Tasha hated that she still noticed.
“I’m not trying to punish you.”
“It feels like it.”
“I’m trying to stop the bleeding.”
She turned toward the bedroom.
Malcolm spoke behind her.
“I love you.”
Tasha stopped.
Her back remained to him.
“I believe you.”
He sounded surprised.
She looked over her shoulder.
“That’s what makes this worse.”
He stared.
“You loved me and still decided my consent was optional.”
Tasha went to bed alone.
At 2:18 a.m., she woke to the sound of the front door.
She walked into the hallway.
Malcolm was gone.
The storage documents remained on the table.
His car was missing from the parking lot.
Tasha checked his location.
They had always shared it.
Unavailable.
At 3:07, a text arrived.
MALCOLM: I need to fix one thing.
Tasha immediately called.
No answer.
She called again.
Nothing.
Then Kendra called.
“Tasha?”
“How did you know I was awake?”
“Because Malcolm just called me.”
Tasha sat on the couch.
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether I still had a copy of the transfer I sent him.”
“Why?”
“He said he needs proof.”
“Proof of what?”
Kendra hesitated.
“That his mother knew the three thousand dollars was a loan.”
Tasha closed her eyes.
“He went back to Loretta’s.”
“I think so.”
Another text arrived.
This one was from Loretta.
LORETTA: Come get your husband before he ruins this family.
Tasha stared at the words.
For the first time that week, she did not feel responsible for rescuing Malcolm from his own choices.
She put the phone face down.
“No.”
Kendra was silent.
“What?”
“I’m not going.”
“Tasha—”
“He wanted to fix one thing.”
Her voice was calm.
“Let him.”
Twenty minutes later, Malcolm returned.
His face was pale.
He carried a yellow envelope.
He placed it on the coffee table.
Tasha opened it.
Inside was an unsigned ownership agreement.
Malcolm Reed — proposed 20% membership interest.
Proposed.
Not executed.
Never signed.
Never valid.
Malcolm sat down.
“My mother showed me this six months ago.”
Tasha looked at him.
“She let you believe you owned twenty percent.”
“Yes.”
“And you never asked for a signed copy.”
“No.”
Then Malcolm said quietly:
“There’s something else.”
Tasha almost laughed.
Of course there was.
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He looked at her with hollow eyes.
“The house was never in danger of foreclosure.”
