Chapter 9 - The Knock on the Door
Two weeks passed in peaceful, uninterrupted routine.
I focused on my job at the logistics firm, went to the gym, caught up on sleep, and even went on a couple of casual dates. Without the constant, low-frequency buzz of family drama hanging over my head, I felt lighter than I had in years.
I spent Saturday morning looking at listings with a local real estate agent. I found a small, two-bedroom craftsman house on the west side of town. It had an open kitchen, a fenced-in yard, and a detached garage that would make a perfect workshop. It was within my budget. Standing on the front porch of that house, looking out over the quiet neighborhood, I felt a genuine sense of hope for the future.
That evening, I was on my couch watching a football game when a hesitant knock sounded at my door.
I muted the TV, walked over, and checked through the peephole.
It was Paige.
She was alone. She wore no makeup, her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she was wearing an old grey hoodie that Marcus used to wear. She looked exhausted, smaller than I remembered, stripped of all her usual theatrical glamour.
I opened the door, but I didn't step aside. I kept my hand on the edge of the wood, holding my ground.
"Jake," she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the quiet hall.
"Paige. What are you doing here?"
"Can I... can I please come in for five minutes? Just five minutes. I'm not here to ask for money. I swear to God, I'm not."
I looked at her closely. There were no tears, no dramatic sniffles, no performative hand-wringing. She just looked worn down, like a boxer who had stayed in the ring three rounds too long.
I stepped back and gestured toward the living room. "Five minutes."
She walked in slowly, looking around the modest apartment. She sat down on the edge of the fabric armchair, keeping her hands tucked inside the sleeves of her hoodie.
"Dad is filing for legal separation," Paige said, staring at the floor between her sneakers. "He found an apartment near the lumber yard. He moves out on the first of next month."
I leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing my arms. "I heard."
"Mom is losing her mind, Jake. She screams at me all day, and then she cries all night. She blames me for the separation, but then the next minute she tells me that we’re going to get through it together and that Dad is a traitor." Paige took a shaky breath, finally looking up at me. "I took a job as a night-shift data entry clerk at the hospital. It pays minimum wage, plus a two-dollar differential. I signed a confession of judgment with the engineering firm. They're garnishing thirty percent of my wages for the next three years to pay back the credit card."
"It's a start," I said evenly. "At least you're taking accountability."
"I hate you for what you did at Sunday dinner," Paige whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "You blew my whole life up in front of everyone."
May you like
"No, Paige," I countered firmly. "You blew your life up when you chose to cheat on Marcus and steal from his company. I just refused to buy the fireworks for you."
***
