Chapter 9 - Accountability and Consequences
I didn't leave the conference room immediately. Daniel quietly excused himself to give Arthur Vance the signed documents, leaving Khloe and me alone in the sterile, glass-walled office high above the city streets.
Khloe’s sobs were small and ragged now. The entitled, smug sister who had waved the microphone on my wedding dance floor had vanished. Sitting across from me was a frightened, twenty-three-year-old girl who was about to bring a human life into the world with no husband, no job, no money, and parents who were bankrupt in every sense of the word.
“You hate me,” Khloe whispered, her voice muffled by her sleeves.
“I don't hate you, Khloe,” I said, looking across the table. “Hate takes too much energy. I just finally realized that saving you was destroying me.”
“Tyler is gone, Maya,” she choked out, looking up at me with red, swollen eyes. “He blocked me on everything. His mother told me that if I contact him again, they’ll file a restraining order. The venue sent a collection agency to Mom’s house yesterday for that four-thousand-dollar floor damage. I have ninety-four dollars in my checking account. How am I supposed to buy a crib? How am I supposed to buy diapers?”
“You get a job, Khloe,” I answered calmly.
She looked at me as if I had spoken in Ancient Greek. “I’m five months pregnant! Who is going to hire a pregnant woman?”
“Target hires seasonally. Call centers hire remotely. The local library has entry-level desk clerks. You find something that pays ten dollars an hour, you apply for state Medicaid, you apply for food assistance, and you take parenting classes at the community center.”
“Mom said state programs are humiliating!”
“What’s humiliating, Khloe,” I said, leaning forward, “is stealing your sister’s honeymoon. What’s humiliating is blowing pink smoke all over someone else’s wedding dress. What’s humiliating is having security throw you out of a ballroom like a drunken trespasser. Asking for government assistance to feed your baby isn't humiliating—it’s responsible. It’s what adults do when they don't have an older sister to rob.”
Khloe flinched, but she didn't scream. For the first time in her life, she absorbed the blow without throwing a tantrum.
I reached into my purse, pulled out a small, plain notebook, and slid it across the table toward her.
“What’s this?” she asked sniffled.
“It’s a list,” I told her. “It has the names and direct phone numbers of three social workers at Brooklyn Family Services. It has the address of a community clinic that offers free prenatal care and birthing classes. And it has the phone number of a pro bono legal clinic that will help you file for court-ordered child support against Tyler. His wages can and will be garnished the moment that baby is born.”
Khloe picked up the notebook, her fingers tracing the handwriting. “You... you’re not giving me money?”
“Not a single cent,” I said firmly. “Money kept you helpless, Khloe. Mom convinced you that looking pretty and crying was a career path, and I funded that lie for seven years. I won’t do it anymore. If you want a life for your daughter, you’re going to have to build it with your own two hands.”
Khloe looked down at the notebook, her tears dropping onto the paper, blurring the ink of the clinic address.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. It was barely audible, but it was real. No cameras, no crowd, no Mom telling her what to say. “I’m so sorry about your wedding, Maya. I really thought... Mom told me you wouldn't care. She told me you had so much that you wouldn't even notice.”
“I noticed, Khloe,” I said softly. “Now it’s time for you to notice the rest of the world.”
I stood up, smoothed down the fabric of my dress, and picked up my coat.
“If you attend those classes, if you get a job, and if you keep Mom away from that baby’s finances, you can text me updates,” I said, pausing at the conference room door. “Only updates about your progress. The second you ask for cash, the line goes dead forever.”
Khloe clutched the notebook against her chest, nodding slowly through her tears. “Okay. Okay, Maya.”
I walked out of the room. Daniel was waiting by the elevators, his hands in his overcoat pockets. When he saw me, his face softened into that quiet, reassuring smile that had anchored me through the storm.
May you like
He didn't ask what was said. He simply wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulled me close against the autumn chill, and we walked out of the building together.
***
