"Why should I do my best in school? School is stupid."
"Because you're not gonna end up like Mama," I say, pacing the room. "You're not gonna end up like me. And you're damn sure not gonna end up like Destiny. And that’s what school give you. It’s an opportunity, Mercy. That’s what school is. It’s a way to change things. You’re gonan have a nice, easy summer and then you’re gonna go back to school in the fall and change things by doin’ your best. We’ve got this new house now, I did mytime, I’m patched in. Life is different. Things are different. And we’re never goin’ back to the way they were. That's my promise. I swear it on my fuckin’ life. But change doesn’t come easy. We gotta work for it, Mercy. We gottamakeit happen."
She watches me pace, her tears drying on her cheeks.
"Poverty isn't just being broke," I tell her, the words coming from somewhere deep and dark. "It's the long, slow death of families. It's watching your mama work three jobs and still come home crying because the lights got shut off. It's learning to be hungry and callin’ it normal."
I stop at the window, looking out at the scrubland that stretches to the horizon. "We grew up thinking we deserved nothing, so nothing is what we got. But that ends with us, Mercy. It ends today."
"How?" Her voice is so small.
"Bybelievingwe deserve better." I turn back to her. "By taking what's ours instead of waiting for someone to decide we're worth givin’ it to."
She looks around the kitchen again, touching the edge of the counter like it might disappear. "What if I break it?"
"Then we'll fix it."
"What if I can't?"
"Then I will."
She takes a deep breath. "What if you leave again?"
The question hangs between us, heavy with all the promises I've already broken. I could lie. Tell her I never will. But we both know better.
"If I leave," I say slowly, "it won't be because I want to. And it won't be forever."
She nods, like this is an answer she can live with. Not perfect, but honest.
"The world's been trying to bury the Kanes for generations," I tell her. "Our grandpa died in a mine. Our mama died bringingyou into the world. Destiny's out there somewhere, probably scared and alone. But we're still here. Still standing. And that means somethin’."
I reach out and brush a strand of hair from her face. "Home isn't just a place, Merce. It's having someone who looks for you when you're lost. Someone who fights for you when you can't fight for yourself."
"Is that what you do?" she asks.
"It's what I'm tryin’ to do," I admit. "I'm not perfect at it. But I'm not stoppin’ either."
She looks at me for a long moment, then walks to the refrigerator and opens it. Empty shelves gleam back at us.
"We need food," she says simply.
And just like that, we're moving forward.
One small step at a time.
"Yeah," I say, relief washing through me. "We do."
