“Dad.”
“Financial aid.”
“Dad.”
Samuel rubbed his forehead.
“Roughly half the remaining tuition.”
Maya stared.
“What?”
“Some semesters more. Some less.”
She looked genuinely confused.
“Mom told me your business couldn’t afford sophomore year.”
“It couldn’t.”
“Then how?”
Samuel shrugged.
“I figured it out.”
“How?”
“Maya.”
“How?”
Samuel looked uncomfortable.
“I sold some things.”
“What things?”
“Nothing important.”
She immediately remembered something.
“Your motorcycle.”
Samuel looked away.
Maya stared.
“You told me it broke.”
“It did.”
“You sold it.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
Samuel laughed nervously.
“Do we really need an inventory?”
Maya’s eyes filled.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have felt guilty.”
“I should know.”
“No.”
Samuel shook his head.
“You should have gone to class.”
“That was your job.”
Maya became frustrated.
“Mom let me think Marcus paid.”
“I didn’t know what your mother told you.”
“Why didn’t you correct it?”
Samuel looked at her.
“Because Marcus did help.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“He covered things when I couldn’t.”
Maya sat back.
Samuel continued.
“He never held it over me.”
Her expression softened slightly.
“When my company had problems sophomore year, Marcus paid the whole remaining balance before I could.”
Maya stared.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“And you paid him back?”
“Eventually.”
“Why?”
Samuel smiled.
“Pride.”
“At least you admit it.”
“I’m old. Self-awareness finally showed up.”
Maya laughed.
Then became serious again.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Why did you let Mom rewrite everything?”
Samuel’s smile disappeared.
“I didn’t know she had.”
“Yes, you did.”
He thought about it.
“Maybe.”
“Then why?”
Samuel looked toward the window.
“Because divorced parents can destroy a kid by constantly defending themselves.”
Maya listened.
“Your mother and I could have spent your entire childhood giving you evidence against each other.”
He shrugged.
“I didn’t want that.”
“So you said nothing.”
“Mostly.”
“That hurt you.”
Samuel smiled sadly.
“Being a parent isn’t always about winning the argument.”
Maya reached across the table.
She took his hand.
“But you deserved credit.”
Samuel squeezed her fingers.
“I got you.”
“What?”
“You still call me Dad.”
He smiled.
“That’s enough credit.”
Three days later, Maya confronted Denise.
Not angrily.
That made it harder.