Chapter 1: The Four Hundred Dollar Question
“Four hundred dollars. Rent is due.””
My mother said it like she was asking me for a glass of water.
Not like she was taking the last money I had in my wallet.
I stood on one side of the kitchen counter, my fingers wrapped around my worn brown wallet, while my mother, Monique, held out her palm and waited. Behind her, the apartment looked exactly the same as it had for years—the chipped wooden cabinets, the humming refrigerator, the small dining table covered with unopened mail.
The only thing that had changed was that I finally noticed who was benefiting from my sacrifices.
I was twenty-four years old, working two jobs, and still somehow felt like I was always one emergency away from losing everything.
My mother was forty-eight, with short curls she carefully styled every morning and a lavender blouse she wore whenever she wanted to look put together. She had always been the person I trusted most.
At least, I thought she was.
I opened my wallet slowly.
Inside were four hundred-dollar bills.
That was it.
My entire backup plan.
The money I had saved after picking up extra shifts at the hospital cafeteria. The money I planned to use if my car broke down or if my phone died or if something happened that I couldn’t predict.
My mother watched me count.
“One,” I whispered.
The first bill landed in her hand.
“Two.””
The second.
“Three.””
The third.
“Four.””
She folded the cash immediately.
No “thank you.””
No “I know this is hard.””
No hug.
Nothing.
From the living room, the sound of a basketball game played loudly from the television. My mother’s boyfriend, Curtis, was stretched across the sofa like he owned the place.
His shaved head rested against a pillow. His green tracksuit was spotless. His feet were on the coffee table, right next to the remote and an empty takeaway container.
He looked comfortable.
Too comfortable.
“Can you order me something else?”” Curtis called.
My mother turned toward him instantly.
“What do you want?””
He lifted the empty container and shook it.
“Something with chicken this time. Maybe wings.””
Monique smiled.
“Sure, baby.””
Baby.
That word hit me harder than it should have.
I looked at the four hundred dollars in her hand.
Then I looked at him.
“Mom.””
She turned back.
“What?””
I stared toward the living room.
“How much rent does he pay?””
The smile disappeared from her face.
Just slightly.
Most people wouldn’t have noticed.
But I knew my mother.
I knew every little movement.
The way her fingers tightened around the money.
The way her eyes shifted away from mine.
“Why are you asking me that?””
“Because I’m trying to understand something.””
I leaned against the counter.
“I’ve been giving you money every month. I help with groceries. I pay my phone bill. I buy things for the apartment when they run out.””
I pointed toward Curtis.
“And he’s been here almost a year.””
Curtis muted the television.
He was listening now.
My mother slipped my money into her pocket.
“Curtis helps me in other ways.””
I frowned.
“Like what?””
Curtis laughed from the couch.
“Don’t start making this weird.””
I looked at him.
“I asked my mother a question.””
He sat up slightly.
“She doesn’t charge me. Simple.””
The words hung in the room.
I blinked.
“What?””
Curtis shrugged.
“I said she doesn’t charge me.””
I looked at my mother.
She didn’t deny it.
My stomach tightened.
“Utilities?””
Silence.
“Groceries?””
More silence.
I felt something inside me crack.
“Anything?””
Curtis picked up the remote again.
“Why are you interrogating people in their own home?””
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“My own home?””
My mother folded her arms.
“Jada, don’t do this.””
“Do what?””
“Make everything about money.””
I stared at her.
“Everything is already about money.””
She looked offended.
“You have no idea what I’ve done for you.””
That sentence.
That was the sentence parents used when they wanted you to remember your childhood but forget your adulthood.
I remembered everything.
The nights she stayed awake when I was sick.
The lunches she packed.
The sacrifices she made.
But I also remembered every month I gave her money and every time she said she needed “just a little more.””
I remembered skipping dinners because I was trying to help.
Curtis clicked the remote.
“She covers me because she loves me.””
I turned toward him.
“And what do you do for her?””
He smirked.
“I’m here.””
I almost laughed.
“You’re here?””
My mother stepped forward.
“Jada.””
“No, Mom. I’m serious.””
I looked at Curtis.
“You live here. You eat here. You use electricity here.””
Then I looked back at her.
“And your daughter is the one paying?””
My mother’s face hardened.
“You’re responsible for yourself.””
The words were quiet.
But they hurt more than yelling.
I slowly closed my wallet.
It was empty.
A wallet that had been full ten seconds earlier now felt like a symbol of everything I had been giving away.
“So let me understand this.””
My voice shook.
“Your daughter pays, but your boyfriend lives free?””
My mother opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
For the first time in my life, she had no answer.
I grabbed my jacket from the chair.
And as I reached for the door, my phone vibrated.
I almost ignored it.
Almost.
But when I looked down at the screen, I saw a message from an unknown number.
One sentence.
May you like
And it made me stop breathing.
*“Jada, if you’re finally questioning where your mother’s money goes, you need to know what Curtis has been hiding.””*