Calvin and I had our own corrections to make.
In December, we met with Maria and an attorney.
“I don’t want another January transfer,” I told Calvin.
He nodded.
“I agree.”
Instead, the money I had intended for Ava would go into a protected education and future-needs account.
Annual statements would come to both Calvin and me.
Major expenses would be discussed openly.
Melissa would have separate financial support while she rebuilt her independence.
Calvin slid a check across the table.
Twenty-eight thousand dollars.
I stared at it.
“What’s this?”
“The money I used for Melissa.”
“I know what it is.”
“I said I’d replace it.”
“You’ve already replaced part.”
“I want to replace all of it.”
I pushed the check back.
“No.”
Calvin frowned.
“The money was sent for Ava.”
“And what does Ava need?”
He didn’t answer.
“She needs parents who are stable. She needs a mother receiving proper care. She needs a family that isn’t keeping ledgers against one another.”
“I still made the decision without you.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“And you apologized. And you opened every record. And we’re changing how we handle things.”
He stared at the check.
“So we’re done?”
“With the money issue?”
“Yes.”
I thought about seven years of believing every problem could be prevented if I sent enough money every January.
“No,” I said. “We’re doing something better than being done.”
“What?”
