Chapter 3 - The Price of a Punch
By breakfast, the video had eighty thousand views.
My face filled the screen.
My fist moved.
The clip ended before anyone saw what happened to Dahlia's fountain.
I shut off my phone when a stranger called me a monster.
Then I turned it back on because the university might need to reach us.
Dahlia hadn't slept.
She sat at our kitchen table in a borrowed sweatshirt, rubbing the hem between her fingers.
“I needed you to be there for me,” she said.
“Not fight someone for me.”
“She destroyed your celebration.”
“And you made sure nobody remembers anything else.”
That hurt because it was true.
I apologized.
Dahlia said she heard me, but she wasn't ready to forgive me.
I let those two things be different.
At ten, a university administrator called.
The hall was closed pending cleanup and inspection.
Damage charges would be reviewed after insurance statements came in.
Dahlia's diploma was safe, but the family event had turned into a disciplinary and security matter.
Then an email arrived from Tatum's attorney.
She wanted reimbursement for injuries, damaged catering equipment, and lost business.
The demand was $18,200.
“That's more than we spent on this party,” Dahlia said.
Severin called while I was still staring at the number.
“Mom, you have to apologize publicly.”
“I already apologized to Dahlia.”
“I mean to Tatum.”
“Your wife pushed that fountain.”
“She says the table shifted.”
“Did you see it?”
His silence lasted too long.
I ended the call and found Dahlia holding a cream-colored envelope that had been mixed into the stack of cards from yesterday.
It wasn't a graduation card.
It was a final notice from a commercial lender, addressed to her.
May you like
She opened it, read the first line, and went pale.
“Mom,” she said, “why do I owe forty-eight thousand six hundred dollars?”
