“I was trying to make a point.”
“What point?”
“That we cannot continue letting Maya dictate this family based on what Camille would have wanted.”
Marcus stared.
Lillian said quietly, “She destroyed it because Maya refused the gown Vanessa bought.”
Vanessa snapped, “Stay out of this.”
Marcus’s eyes did not leave his wife.
“Is that true?”
“The situation is more complicated.”
“Did Maya refuse another dress?”
“Yes.”
“And you cut this one.”
“She was disrespectful.”
Marcus looked at Maya.
His daughter stood with one hand over her mouth.
He could see she was trying not to cry loudly.
That hurt more than the crying itself.
Maya had always cried without shame.
When she was six, tears came because pancakes were too round.
At eight, because a caterpillar disappeared before she could show him.
At ten, because someone at school told her crying was babyish and Camille was no longer there to contradict them.
Now she was trying to be quiet.
Marcus looked at Vanessa again.
“What exactly did you think would happen after you destroyed it?”
“I would replace it.”
“With what?”
“The gown I already bought.”
“And if Maya refused?”
“She is fourteen.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I am her stepmother.”
Marcus’s voice became low.
“You are an adult entrusted with her.”
Vanessa stared.
The words hurt.
Marcus knew they would.
He did not take them back.
Vanessa gestured angrily toward Maya.
“She has been impossible for months.”
Maya looked shocked.
Marcus turned toward his daughter.
“How?”
Vanessa answered for her.
“She ignores me. She goes to Lillian every time I make a decision. She compares me to Camille. She refuses family photographs. She refused to come to New York with me last month.”
“I had exams.”
“You had one exam.”
“I had three.”
“Two were quizzes.”
Maya stared.
Marcus lifted one hand.
“Stop.”
Vanessa did.
He looked at Maya.
“Have you been fighting with Vanessa?”
Maya looked down.
Sometimes silence carried more information than a paragraph.
Marcus felt something cold begin moving through his chest.
“Maya.”
She shrugged.
“Sometimes.”
“What kind of fighting?”
Vanessa immediately said, “Marcus, she is upset.”
He looked at her.
“I asked my daughter.”
The emphasis was unmistakable.
Vanessa stepped back.
Maya wiped her face.
“She says I talk about Mom too much.”
Marcus closed his eyes for one second.
“What else?”
“She took Mom’s picture out of the kitchen.”
Vanessa sighed.
“It did not match the redecorating.”
Marcus’s eyes opened.
“You told me the frame broke.”
“It did.”
Maya said, “No.”
Marcus looked at her.
“I found it in the garage.”
Vanessa’s face changed.
Maya continued.
“The frame wasn’t broken.”
Marcus stared at his wife.
“When?”
“Two months ago,” Maya said.
He turned back.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Maya’s face collapsed.
“She said you were tired.”
Marcus’s breathing slowed.
“What?”
Maya looked terrified now, not of Vanessa, but of disappointing him.
“She said you were tired because everybody kept making you choose.”
No one spoke.
Marcus felt the sentence physically.
“Choose between what?”
Maya looked toward Vanessa.
Then back at him.
“Me and her.”
Marcus turned.
Vanessa shook her head.
“That is not what I said.”
Maya cried harder.
“You did.”
“I said your father deserves peace.”
“You said he would send me to Grandma if I kept making problems.”
Marcus looked at Lillian.