"It paid the rent," she said. "Okay? You want to know where it went, Connie? It went to the rent. Sixteen-fifty a month for this place, and I bring home two thousand and change from Kemper's if I don't miss a day. It went to the heat. It went to the Corolla. It went to groceries. It went to her. She sleeps under that roof. She eats that food. I looked it up, all right? I'm allowed. You're allowed to use it for food and housing. It's not stealing to put a roof over your own kid's head."
"Her share," Abuela said. "Her share of the roof. Her food. Her coat. Her glasses. Her shoes, Joanna. Her shoes are the first thing on the list."
"And then what? Then I put the rest in a little account and watch Sadie go without? Because that's what it is, Connie. That's the math. There's her money and there's my money and my money doesn't cover two kids, it barely covers one."
"What account?" Abuela said quietly.
My mother stopped.
Abuela reached into the file one more time. She took out three sheets of white paper, printed, a little crooked, like they'd come off a home printer that needed new ink. She laid them in a row. They were text messages. Screenshots of text messages, from Abuela's flip phone, which was why they looked so strange and blocky. I leaned over and read them. They had dates on them.
The first one was from March 2019. Connie I promise you every cent of Lalo's money goes into her account. It's for her college. I don't touch it.
The second was from August 2021. It's in savings. I told you. You don't need to keep asking.
The third was from this past April. Under it was another one from Abuela: I can send you 600 for the transmission, I don't want you short. And under that, from my mother: Thank you Connie. Brent hasn't paid since February and I didn't want to touch Noemi's account. You're a lifesaver.
My mother looked at the three sheets of paper for a long time. Her lips were pressed together so tight they disappeared.
"There was an account," she said finally. "There was. When she was little. I put the money in. I did, Connie, I swear to God, I did it right that whole first year. There was almost nine thousand dollars in it."