"He wants to loan me money." I repeat the words slowly, testing them on my tongue like spoiled milk. "That's what he told you."
"He's trying, sweetheart. I know things ended badly, but he's still Lily's father. He still cares about?—"
"Stop."
The word comes out harder than I intend. Mom's mouth snaps shut, her eyes widening like I've slapped her.
I grip the edge of the counter. My knuckles hurt. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm aware that Lily could wake up any second, that these walls are paper-thin, that the neighbors can probably hear us breathing.
But I'm so tired.
Years of watching my mother take his side make me so tired. Hundreds of conversations where I smiled and nodded and let her believe whatever fairy tale Jack spun because fighting felt pointless.
"Jack took out that loan," I say quietly. "For Lily's surgery."
"I know, honey. He explained that you both?—"
"He put it in my name." I turn to face her. "Twenty thousand dollars. In my name. And I'm the only one putting money there because he claims that he doesn't have much left. I'm paying for it and he is not. In his world I'm the one who needs to pay a loan that it's taken under my name even though it was for OUR daughter. "
Mom's face goes pale. "That's not—Jack wouldn't?—"
"I've been paying fifteen hundred dollars a month." My voice cracks. I hate that it cracks. "That's why I worked three jobs. That's why I never had money for groceries. That's why Lily and I eat pasta four nights a week and I can't afford to fix the toaster that burns everything."
"Kristen—"
"And now he's offering to loan me money? With what? The money he somehow has?"
Mom sets down her coffee. Her hands are shaking. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Would you have believed me?"
Silence.
The question hangs between us like smoke. Mom's eyes dart away, anywhere but my face.
That's what I thought.
"I'm not asking you to take my side." My voice comes out flat. Empty. "I stopped expecting that a long time ago. But I'm done defending myself to you. I'm done watching you choose him over your own daughter."
"I never chose?—"
"You did." I sling my bag over my shoulder. "Every time you told me to give him another chance. Every time you said I was being dramatic. Every time you looked at me like I was the problem."
I check the clock. Dante must have arrived.
"I have to go." I move toward Lily's room to kiss her goodbye. "Lock up when I leave."
"Kristen, wait." Mom's voice breaks. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't?—"
"I know you didn't." I pause at the doorway. "That's the whole point, Mom. You never wanted to know."
I press my lips to Lily's warm cheek, breathing in her little-girl smell.
"Mommy loves you," I whisper.
She doesn't stir.
When I walk back through the kitchen, Mom hasn't moved. Her mascara has started to run, and for one horrible moment, I almost feel guilty.
