Another.
Phedra: I’m sorry I couldn’t send you a birthday message properly. My phone battery is bad. Please take care of yourself.
Another.
Phedra: I think something is wrong with the money. Please don’t confront anyone. I don’t want trouble in the family.
My thumb stopped moving.
Godfrey noticed.
“What did she tell you?”
I looked up.
“Nothing.”
He laughed nervously.
“Then why are you looking at us like that?”
I slipped the phone back into my pocket.
“I’m not.”
Selina stepped closer.
“Damian, you’re emotional right now. You haven’t slept. You came home unexpectedly and saw your wife in a bad condition. You don’t understand everything that happened.”
“You’re right.”
She blinked.
For the first time since I had walked through the gate, she looked relieved.
“I don’t understand everything.”
I looked at Phedra.
“And that’s why I’m going to ask questions.”
Godfrey’s expression changed.
“What kind of questions?”
“Simple ones.”
I turned toward him.
“Where did the money go?”
Silence.
The backyard suddenly seemed very small.
The only sound was the dripping faucet beside the old washing area.
Selina folded her arms.
“We already explained.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You explained why Phedra was hungry.”
I pointed toward the house.
“You haven’t explained the new floors.”
I looked at the SUV.
“You haven’t explained the car.”
Then I looked at Godfrey.
“And you definitely haven’t explained the auto shop.”
Godfrey’s jaw tightened.
“That’s my business.”
“With what money?”
“My money.”
“Your money?”
“Yes.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Because four years earlier, Godfrey had called me crying because he couldn’t afford the registration fee for a used motorcycle.
I had sent him the money.
Then another amount for tools.
Then another for rent.
Then another because he said he had finally found a small shop he could start.
He had promised to pay me back.
He never did.
But I had never demanded it.
Family, I had told myself.
Family doesn’t keep score.
That belief had cost me more than money.
It had almost cost me my wife.
I turned to Selina.
“How much did I send you last month?”
She hesitated.
“Why does that matter?”
“Answer me.”
“Three thousand.”
“Three thousand what?”
“Dollars.”
“And the month before?”
“Two thousand five hundred.”
“And before that?”
She looked away.
Godfrey stepped in.
“Damian, what’s the point of interrogating her?”
I looked at him.
“The point is that I know exactly how much I sent.”
His face went pale.
I pulled the phone out again.
