Rochelle stared.
Then laughed so hard she cried.
“Fair.”
The family had reached a place where the word could be spoken without destroying a holiday.
That did not happen quickly.
It took decades.
Darren remarried.
Rochelle did not.
Not because she stayed emotionally frozen.
She dated.
Had one relationship lasting six years.
Eventually decided she liked living alone.
Kayla married first.
Nia was maid of honor.
During the reception, Kayla pulled her aside.
“I never said something.”
“What?”
Kayla had tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry Mom spent your money on me.”
Nia stared.
“We did this when we were kids.”
“No.”
Kayla shook her head.
“I said I’d quit cheer.”
“That’s different.”
Nia waited.
Kayla continued:
“For years I felt like every trophy was stolen.”
Nia’s expression softened.
“Oh, Kay.”
“I know I didn't know.”
“I know.”
“But I benefited.”
“You were a child.”
“I still did.”
Nia hugged her.
“Then use it.”
“What?”
“Use what you learned.”
Kayla cried.
“That sounds like therapist garbage.”
“It is.”
They laughed.
Kayla eventually became a teacher.
Middle school.
She had a particular dislike for parents who compared siblings.
Every conference she began with:
“I’m talking about this child.”
Not the older brother.
Not the younger sister.
This child.
Nia liked to claim credit.
Kayla refused.
Dr. Evelyn Carter retired from Bellmont Academy when Nia was thirty-one.
The school hosted a ceremony.
Nia attended.
So did hundreds of former students.
Dr. Carter recognized Nia immediately.
“Leak girl.”
Nia laughed.
“I have a name.”
“Allegedly.”
They hugged.
Nia said:
“You changed my life.”
Dr. Carter pulled back.
“No.”
“You did.”
“I walked across a parking lot.”
“Exactly.”
Dr. Carter smiled.
“I had already sent emails.”
“Less dramatic.”
“Much.”
Nia looked at her.
“What made you come over?”
Dr. Carter thought.
“I saw your face.”
Nia became quiet.
“I knew you had been excited about the finalist packet all week.”
“You had stopped by my office twice asking when they were going out.”
“Yes.”
“Then I saw you holding it like someone had just told you it didn't matter.”
Nia swallowed.
Dr. Carter continued:
“I was not planning to discuss the trust there.”
“Really?”
“No.”
“I was coming to congratulate you.”
“What changed?”
“Your mother said something.”
“What?”
Dr. Carter hesitated.
Nia waited.
“She said, ‘Kayla’s event is something the family actually committed to.’”
Nia closed her eyes.
She vaguely remembered.
Maybe she had buried it.
Dr. Carter continued:
“I realized the form had not been forgotten.”
“That was the moment.”
“Yes.”
Nia looked toward the older woman.
“You knew Dad?”
“Not well.”
“He served on Bellmont’s facilities committee.”
Nia smiled.
“Of course.”
“Your leak project would've annoyed him.”
“What?”