Chapter 5: Call My Mother Yourself
1442 Words
“Then tell her,” I said.
Theo Vescari straightened. Behind him, someone laughed too loudly at something Cassian had said.
“Don’t be childish.”
“You know her number. Call my mother yourself.”
His eyes moved toward Draven Vescari, who had stopped beside the doors when I stopped.
“This has nothing to do with him.”
“Then look at me.”
Theo did, reluctantly. The ring I had recovered pressed into my palm. I wanted somewhere to put it, but opening my hand felt impossible.
“You’ve embarrassed enough people tonight,” he said. “I’m trying to explain the practical consequences.”
“Good. We’ll ask practical questions.”
I turned to Draven. “May I use the phone again?”
He took the borrowed phone from his inside pocket, where I had asked him to carry it.
“Here or outside?”
“Outside. With him.”
Theo gave a little snort. “I’m not being summoned.”
“No,” I said. “You’re being offered the chance to explain the threat you just made.”
A guest approached the doors, saw our faces, and found a reason to turn back. Theo noticed.
“Five minutes,” he said.
***
The corridor had a padded bench beneath a painting of the harbor. I sat because my knees had begun to ache. Draven stayed a few feet away, leaving the space in front of me clear.
I dialed Iris Ellery.
“Did you eat?” my mother asked before I could speak.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Toast.”
“That was earlier.”
“I need to ask you something. Theo’s here. I’d like to put you on speaker, if that’s all right.”
A small silence followed.
“Why is Theo there?”
“We’re leaving the reception. He says your care payments stop before morning.”
“Put me on.”
I pressed the button.
Theo folded his arms.
“Hello, Iris. This isn’t how I wanted—”
“What payments?”
“The support I’ve been providing.”
“What payments, Theo?”
He glanced down the corridor. Draven remained where he was.
“The agency arrangement. Transport. Accommodation expenses.”
My mother’s breathing sounded close to the microphone.
“Mara pays the agency by automatic payment,” she said. “I pay my share from my income. You paid for two car rides.”
“And other things.”
“Name one.”
“I’m not keeping a tally against you.”
“You apparently are against my daughter.”
For the first time since entering the reception, I felt something other than the effort of holding myself upright. I pressed the phone against my knee so it wouldn’t shake.
“Theo,” I said, “did you pay the agency directly?”
“I made sure things were covered.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I advanced money when you were short.”
“You transferred money for the engagement deposit. You told me that was your share.”
His jaw shifted.
“Money is money.”
“No,” my mother said. “It has purposes. That is why people write things down.”
***
I asked her where she was.
“At home. In my chair. The car service called to say they were delayed, and by then you had called.”
“Don’t come tonight.”
“I had reached that conclusion.”
My eyes stung. I bent my head and looked at the ugly borrowed shoes.
“Is tomorrow’s morning visit still booked?”
“As far as I know.”
“Can we check?”
“The office has an after-hours number. It’s on the blue card.”
I knew that card. I had taped it inside her kitchen cabinet at eye level, where she could reach it without bending.
“Would you mind getting it?”
“Yes, I would mind getting up twice. Tell me everything else you need first.”
A laugh escaped me, thin and badly timed.
“The visit schedule. Your account number. Whether you want me there tomorrow.”
“I want you to sleep tonight.”
Theo looked at his watch.
I put the call off speaker while my mother fetched the card. Draven moved closer only when I looked up.
“There’s a small meeting room across the corridor,” he said. “You can make the agency call privately.”
“I need to hear it,” Theo said.
“No,” I told him. “You needed to hear my mother.”
He reached inside his jacket and brought out his phone.
“You’ll receive what you owe me in writing.”
“Include who was paid.”
“You don’t get to dictate—”
“Dates, amounts, recipients.”
Draven opened the meeting-room door. A server passing with a tray slowed when he spoke to her quietly. She nodded and continued down the corridor.
Theo watched that small exchange as though it had insulted him.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said to me.
I looked at the ring trapped in my hand.
“No.”
I went into the room and shut the door myself.
***
The agency’s duty coordinator asked to speak to Iris before discussing her account. I connected the calls and waited while my mother gave permission.
The coordinator could confirm the current booking and balance. She could not settle every question about past transfers that evening.
“That’s enough for tonight,” Iris said. “Is my usual morning worker coming?”
“Yes. At eight-thirty.”
“And nobody called Theo can cancel her?”
“Not without your authorization.”
My mother made a satisfied sound.
I wrote the confirmation on the back of an unused envelope from the meeting-room table. Eight-thirty. Existing arrangement. No suspension.
My handwriting looked like someone else’s.
When the coordinator disconnected, I kept my mother on the line.
“There’s something else,” I said.
“How much else?”
I looked toward the closed door.
“I married Draven today.”
She said nothing.
“I was assessed. I rested. I had my own lawyer. I chose it.”
“That tells me what you expected me to ask.”
“I know.”
“Are you alone with him now?”
“No. He’s outside.”
“Do you want him outside?”
“Yes.”
“Then finish telling me.”
I did not give her every detail. I told her enough about the alliance, the separate rooms, the written terms, and the account I had already made to responders. Saying married hurt differently when the person listening loved me.
At last she asked, “Where will you sleep?”
“I haven’t chosen.”
“Choose somewhere you can bear waking up.”
“Will you be all right at home?”
“For tonight, yes. We’ll discuss the rest when neither of us is pretending not to be tired.”
I stayed on the line until I heard her settle back into her chair.
***
By the following morning, 2 September, Theo’s demand had arrived through the reception desk in a sealed envelope.
I had slept badly in the assessment room I had been allowed to keep overnight. The morning visit had reached my mother on time. She had called to complain that I’d frightened her worker by calling before breakfast.
I took the envelope to a quiet table near North Quay’s rear windows.
Draven brought coffee for himself and asked whether I wanted tea.
“Something I can eat.”
He signaled to a passing member of staff, then sat opposite rather than beside me.
“Did he send a total?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you want me here while you read it?”
“For now.”
The first page called the money advances. The second divided it into transport, household support, and care.
I read the care section twice.
There were dates beside the amounts. Tuesday evenings. Weekend mornings. A three-night stretch when the agency had been short-staffed.
I knew those dates.
One Tuesday I had burned my wrist reheating soup because I was too tired to use an oven glove. On the Sunday listed beneath it, I had washed my mother’s hair over a basin and gone straight to a paid shift in damp sleeves.
Draven set down his coffee.
“What is it?”
I flattened the page.
Theo was demanding reimbursement for care I had personally provided, without charging anyone.
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