Chapter 11 - The Price of Coming Home
I showed Mom the practice signature that evening.
Renee came with me and stayed on the porch.
"You used to make me copy it until my Z looked neat," I said.
Mom stared at the page.
"I was teaching you handwriting."
"You were teaching yourself how to copy mine."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Then tell me who sent this to Northvale."
Behind her, the kitchen clock clicked toward eight.
I could hear Jo reading out loud in the living room, stumbling over the word responsibility.
Mom lowered her voice.
"I couldn't let you leave in August."
I waited.
She wouldn't meet my eyes.
"The business is behind. We have wedding deposits to return, the mortgage, the girls' school fees. I needed time."
"So you canceled my scholarship."
"I thought you could apply again next year."
"There isn't a next-year guarantee for a full ride."
Her face twisted.
"Everything always works out for you."
I almost laughed.
Nothing had ever worked out for me without a second job and three hours of sleep.
"Did you also sign the equipment loan?"
"That refrigerator is why we still have catering contracts."
"That's not an answer."
She looked at Renee.
"You turned her against me."
Renee stepped onto the porch.
"Patrice, you made those choices yourself."
Mom grabbed my arm, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to remind me who she thought I belonged to.
"Come back through December," she said.
"Help me get caught up, and I'll tell the school there was a misunderstanding."
I pulled away.
"You want me to buy back what I already earned."
For a moment she looked frightened.
May you like
Then she straightened.
"If you refuse, I'll tell them you asked me to do it."
