Chapter 11 - The Degree
Mom had enrolled in an online graduate program.
Business administration.
Two years earlier.
She had told everyone she was taking “a few classes.”
Apparently those classes had cost more than $80,000.
And apparently she had decided I should pay.
The application had my income.
My Social Security number.
My employment information.
My forged electronic signature.
The loan had not fully funded.
But $31,000 had already been disbursed.
I sat in Lauren’s office reading the documents.
Micah sat beside me.
Dad sat across the room.
He looked like he might be sick.
“She told me there was a scholarship.”
Lauren did not react.
“She may have misrepresented that.”
Dad laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“You can just say she lied.”
Lauren nodded.
“She lied.”
Then my phone rang.
Mom.
Lauren looked at me.
“You can answer.”
I put it on speaker.
“Hello.”
Mom did not greet me.
“Did you contact the university?”
“Yes.”
“You had no right.”
I stared at the phone.
“No right?”
“That program is mine.”
“The debt is mine.”
“I was going to repay it.”
“With what money?”
“My salary.”
“You make forty-eight thousand dollars a year.”
“That’s insulting.”
“It’s arithmetic.”
Micah almost smiled.
Mom’s breathing sharpened.
“You always thought you were smarter than me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“This has nothing to do with intelligence.”
“It has everything to do with it.”
Her voice cracked with something I had rarely heard from her.
Resentment.
“You got opportunities I never got.”
I went still.
“You traveled.”
“Because I worked.”
“You built a career.”
“Yes.”
“You walked into rooms and people listened to you.”
“What does that have to do with stealing my identity?”
“You don’t understand.”
“No.”
My voice became quiet.
“I understand perfectly.”
Silence.
“You believed my success was something you were entitled to access.”
Mom laughed bitterly.
“You always make everything sound so ugly.”
“I’m describing what happened.”
“You left us behind.”
The sentence startled me.
“When?”
“The moment you started making real money.”
“That was ten years ago.”
“Exactly.”
I finally understood something.
Mom had not started resenting me at the wedding.
Or when I refused the car.
Or when I canceled tuition.
My independence itself had offended her.
Because independence meant she could no longer define my obligations.
“Where is Dalia?” I asked.
“Safe.”
“I didn’t ask whether she was safe.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Good.”
Mom went silent.
“Tell her Rachel is filing a report.”
Another silence.
Then Mom’s tone changed completely.
“What?”
I looked at Lauren.
Lauren nodded once.
“Rachel is no longer accepting your agreement.”
“You spoke to her?”
“Yes.”
“Vera.”
Fear.
Real fear.
“She signed something.”
“Not a valid immunity agreement.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Lauren does.”
“Who is Lauren?”
“My attorney.”
Mom stopped breathing for a second.
Then the call ended.
Lauren leaned back.
“That scared her.”
Dad stared at the table.
I didn’t feel victorious.
I felt tired.
Then Lauren’s assistant knocked and entered.
She held a folder.
“There’s another issue.”
Lauren took it.
Read the first page.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
I asked.
She looked at Dad.
Then at me.
“Your mother transferred the house yesterday.”
Dad stood.
“What?”
“To whom?”
May you like
Lauren turned the page.
“Dalia.”
