Chapter 2 - THE APARTMENT WITH ENOUGH FOOD
Rachel drove Daniel back to their two-bedroom apartment near Wright State University.
Her twelve-year-old Honda rattled when the air conditioner ran. Marcus had mocked the car that afternoon before Daniel asked for food.
“Your mom still driving that thing?” he had said. “Guess some people never move up.”
At home, Daniel went directly to the kitchen.
Rachel opened the refrigerator and set bread, turkey, cheese, grapes and yogurt on the counter.
“You can have whatever you want.”
Daniel did not touch any of it.
“Do poor kids have to eat off the ground?”
Rachel closed the refrigerator slowly.
“We aren’t poor in the way Uncle Marcus means.”
“Our apartment is smaller than his garage.”
“That doesn’t decide what kind of people we are.”
Daniel looked toward the window.
“Everybody watched.”
Rachel sat beside him.
“I should’ve taken you away the first time he spoke to you like that.”
Marcus’s insults had rarely been so direct. He usually disguised them as advice.
He offered to replace Rachel’s car, then criticized her for refusing debt. He invited Daniel to expensive outings, then told relatives Rachel could not provide opportunities. He introduced her as “our family minimalist,” as though her life were a failed experiment.
Rachel lived carefully because her salary as a medical billing specialist covered rent, school expenses and health insurance, but left little room for emergencies.
She also received no income from the family store.
Their father had transferred equal ownership shares to Rachel and Marcus before his death four years earlier. Marcus managed daily operations. Each year, he claimed profits had to remain in the business.
Rachel had believed him until a bank representative called about renewing a credit line she did not remember guaranteeing.
Marcus said the paperwork was routine. He promised to explain at the barbecue.
Instead, he humiliated Daniel before placing the blue folder beside her seat.
Rachel’s phone began vibrating.
Messages appeared from relatives.
You shouldn’t have hit him.
Marcus was out of line, but the store employs people.
Please don’t make a family moment into a business fight.
Linda called twice.
Rachel answered on the third attempt.
“Is Daniel all right?” her mother asked.
“No.”
“Marcus lost his temper.”
“He put my child’s face near the ground.”
“I saw.”
“And you still want me to sign his loan.”
Linda lowered her voice.
“If the credit line isn’t renewed, the store may miss payroll.”
“Then Marcus can show me the books.”
“He says you wouldn’t understand the pressure he’s under.”
Rachel looked at the food untouched on Daniel’s plate.
“I understand exactly what he does when someone needs something from him.”
She ended the call.
Daniel finally picked up half a sandwich, wrapped it in a napkin and placed it in his backpack.
“For later,” he said.
May you like
Rachel watched him hide food inside the front pocket.
The humiliation had followed them home.
