"Did he pay for you to fly to California?"
The question hangs in the air between us. My silence stretches on.
Mom explodes.
"Some man you barely know paid for your flight?!" Her voice rises with every word. "What else did he pay for? The hotel? Food? Clothes?"
"It's not like that?—"
"Don't you dare tell me what it's like!" Mom's voice cracks, and beneath the anger, I hear something else. Something that sounds almost like fear. "Men use money to control women, Jade. That's how it works. That's how it'salwaysworked."
"You don't understand?—"
"I understand perfectly." Her voice hardens again. "It starts small. A gesture here, a gift there. Generosity that seems too good to be true because itistoo good to be true. And before you know it, you're dependent. You need him for everything. You can't leave because you have nothing of your own anymore. That's when you realize you're trapped."
I press my free hand against my chest, trying to ease the tightness there. "Mom, please?—"
"You can never take money from a man," she says, and now her voice is low and intense, almost pleading. "Never. Do you understand me?Never."
"Why are you—" I start, confused by the raw emotion in her voice. This isn't just a lecture. This is something deeper. Something personal.
"I had a friend once." Mom's voice changes, becomes distant, like she's looking at something far away. "My best friend. Closer to me than anyone else in the world."
I go still. In all the years I've known her, she's never mentioned this. She barely talks about her past. Her life before me has always been a closed door.
"She met a stranger," Mom continues. "Rich. Powerful. Handsome. The kind of man who walks into a room and everyone notices. He saw her, and he wanted her, and he pursued her with everything he had."
My heart starts beating faster. There's something in her tone that makes me uneasy, though I can't say why.
"He sent her a check," Mom says. "Out of nowhere. Paid off all her debts—student loans, credit cards, everything. Just like that. She hadn't even asked. He just... did it."
I think of the check Phoenix sent me.
"She went to meet him," Mom continues. "Flew to Hawaii, where he had a house. Paradise. That's what she called it. She sent me pictures of the ocean, the sunsets, this incredible estate overlooking the water. She was so happy. She thought she'd found her fairy tale."
"What happened?" My voice comes out barely above a whisper.
"He paid for everything. The house, the clothes, the lifestyle. She never had to work again, never had to worry about money. And at first, it seemed perfect. But Jade..." Mom's voice drops. "It wasn't love. It was control. By the time she realized it, shewas already in too deep. She had nothing of her own. Nowhere to go. No way out."
"What happened to her?" I ask. "Your friend?"
A long pause. When Mom speaks again, her voice is flat. Dead.
"We're not friends anymore."
"Why?"
"It ended over money. It's always money." Mom laughs, but there's no humor in it. "She chose him and his wealth. Lost herself completely in the process. I tried to warn her. I begged her to see what was happening. But she wouldn't listen."
Her voice hardens.
"Just like you're not listening now."
"Mom, this is different?—"
"Is it?" she snaps. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks exactly the same. You meet someone and suddenly you’re on a plane to California to play house with him."
"He's not a stranger," I say weakly, but even as the words leave my mouth, I wonder if they're true. How well do I really know Phoenix Crawford?
