Chapter 7 - Maya’s Chore Chart
That afternoon I searched Maya’s bedroom.
Not secretly from her.
Together.
I told her I wanted to see the chore chart she had mentioned.
She pulled a folded paper from beneath her mattress.
It wasn’t a child’s chore chart.
It was a schedule.
5:45 — wake up.
6:00 — kitchen counters.
6:20 — laundry sorting.
After school:
Bathroom.
Sheets.
Guest room.
Trash.
Polish stair rail.
At the bottom:
Incomplete work = no tablet / no dessert / no Daddy call.
I stared at the final line.
“Vanessa stopped you calling me?”
Maya nodded.
“She said you needed rest.”
“How often?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did she ever tell you I didn’t want to talk?”
Maya’s face answered before she did.
“Yes.”
I went into the hallway because I didn’t want her to see my expression.
For six months I had wondered why Maya seemed increasingly distant during business travel.
I had blamed age.
School.
Grief from losing her biological mother when she was three.
Vanessa had been controlling access between us.
Not completely.
Just enough.
A missed call here.
An early bedtime there.
Small separations.
Small lies.
Exactly the kind nobody notices individually.
May you like
Together, they formed a wall.
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