Chapter 2 - SHE PRESSED PLAY.
Alexander didn't ask his mother to stop.
That surprised Bianca more than the recorder itself.
Helga stood beside the coffee table holding the little device between two fingers. It looked almost ridiculous in such an expensive room.
A twenty-dollar recorder beneath a designer flowerpot.
Nothing glamorous about it.
Nothing impressive.
But Bianca stared at it like Helga had pulled a weapon from beneath the table.
"Turn that off."
Helga didn't.
"Alexander."
Bianca looked at him.
"Tell her to turn it off."
Alexander kept his eyes on the recorder.
"Why?"
Bianca seemed genuinely stunned.
"Because she secretly recorded us."
Helga answered before Alexander could.
"I recorded myself sitting in a room where I was told I smelled like bleach."
"You didn't know I was going to say that."
"No."
Helga's expression remained calm.
"I didn't."
That answer bothered Alexander.
He turned toward her.
"Then why was it there?"
Helga looked at him.
"We'll get to that."
Bianca laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"Of course we will. Because this is a performance."
Helga pressed play.
Static whispered through the tiny speaker.
Then came the sound of glassware.
Lydia speaking softly about traffic.
Ewald asking where Alexander had gone.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing useful.
Bianca folded her arms.
"This is insane."
Helga kept listening.
Alexander did too.
Then his own voice came through the speaker.
"I told you, Mom. Take it."
A pause.
Helga's recorded voice answered.
"Alexander, I don't need—"
"I know you don't. I want you to."
The room changed.
Bianca's jaw tightened.
On the recording, paper moved.
The envelope.
Then Bianca's voice came closer.
"What is that?"
Alexander's recorded answer followed.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
"How much?"
"Bianca."
"How much are you giving her?"
The present-day Alexander looked slowly toward Bianca.
Bianca stared at the recorder.
Helga said nothing.
The recording continued.
Alexander sounded irritated.
"It's mine."
"That's not an answer."
"It doesn't have to be."
Then the rustle.
Helga's fingers closing around the envelope.
Bianca's shoes crossing the rug.
The violent tear.
"No. That money is not for her."
The rest played exactly as they had all heard it minutes earlier.
There was Bianca's voice.
Clear.
Sharp.
Unmistakable.
"It is our future. And my father deserves it more than a cleaning woman who spent her life smelling of bleach."
Lydia closed her eyes.
Ewald looked toward the floor.
Alexander remained still.
Helga stopped the recording.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Bianca recovered first.
"So what?"
Alexander looked at her.
She lifted both hands.
"You all heard me say it. Congratulations. The machine heard it too."
Helga nodded.
"Correct."
Bianca frowned.
"Then what's the point?"
"The point isn't proving what you said tonight."
Helga looked at Alexander.
"The point is that tonight is the first time you heard it yourself."
Alexander's lips parted slightly.
Bianca shook her head.
"Oh, come on."
Helga turned toward her.
"You weren't always careless enough to say things in front of him."
"Helga."
Alexander's voice was quiet.
She looked at him.
He seemed smaller now.
Not physically.
Something else.
"How many times?"
Helga didn't answer immediately.
That delay frightened him more than a number would have.
Bianca stepped closer.
"This is exactly what she wants."
Alexander did not look away from his mother.
"How many times?"
Helga took a breath.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I stopped counting the little ones."
Bianca scoffed.
"Little ones."
Helga nodded.
"Yes."
She gestured toward the rug.
"This wasn't little."
Alexander closed his eyes briefly.
Ewald finally extended the torn envelope toward him.
"Take it."
Alexander opened his eyes.
Ewald's eagerness was gone.
In its place was something far less comfortable.
Awareness.
He had accepted money that wasn't his while standing in front of its owner.
Alexander took the envelope.
Then he bent down.
One bill at a time, he began gathering the scattered cash.
Helga crouched to help.
Alexander immediately said, "Mom, don't."
She ignored him.
So did Lydia.
The older woman finally dropped her hand from her mouth and bent down near the sofa.
Bianca remained standing.
Nobody asked her to help.
That seemed to bother her.
Lydia found the bill beneath Alexander's shoe.
Helga found another near the coffee table.
Alexander counted nothing.
He simply returned every bill he found to the damaged envelope.
When he stood, he held it against his chest.
Bianca looked at it.
Then at him.
"Are you really going to give that to her now?"
Alexander stared.
"Now?"
"After this?"
Helga watched his face.
It was the same trap in a different dress.
Bianca wanted him to prove he wasn't controlled by his mother by letting Bianca control the decision instead.
Alexander seemed to understand that.
Slowly.
Painfully.
But he understood.
He turned to Helga.
"I was giving this to you before any of this happened."
Helga looked at the envelope.
"Yes."
"So nothing changed."
"Something changed."
He frowned.
Helga looked toward Bianca.
"Now you know what it costs her when you give me anything."
Bianca's voice sharpened.
"Because there are limits."
"To what?"
"To how much guilt gets to run our lives."
Alexander flinched.
There it was again.
Guilt.
Helga watched him absorb it.
Bianca stepped closer to him.
"You've spent years trying to repay things nobody asked you to repay."
Helga studied her.
That sentence contained more truth than Bianca probably realized.
Alexander had always carried the past like a debt.
The small apartment.
The secondhand school clothes.
The nights Helga came home smelling like cleaning chemicals and somebody else's lemon furniture polish.
He had promised himself that someday she wouldn't worry about money.
Helga had never asked for that promise.
She had asked him to be decent.
Money was easier.
Alexander rubbed the torn edge of the envelope with his thumb.
"Why does helping my mother threaten you?"
"It doesn't."
"Then why did you grab it?"
"Because we have plans."
"What plans require my money to be in your father's hands?"
Ewald stiffened.
Bianca's eyes flashed.
"Don't make this ugly."
Helga almost laughed again.
Alexander didn't.
"It's already ugly."
Bianca took a step back.
For the first time, she looked less furious than frightened.
Helga noticed.
So did Lydia.
Bianca reached for her purse.
"Fine."
She pulled the strap over her shoulder.
"You want to turn one horrible sentence into a trial? Go ahead."
"No one said trial," Alexander replied.
Bianca looked directly at Helga.
"That's what she wants."
Helga slipped the recorder into her palm.
"No."
"What do you want, then?"
Helga answered without raising her voice.
"I want my son to stop telling me I misunderstood you."
Alexander's face tightened.
Bianca froze.
That sentence had not been aimed at her.
It was worse because of that.
Alexander looked at his mother.
"When did I say that?"
Helga held his gaze.
"Which time?"
He had no answer.
Helga picked up her purse from the sofa.
Alexander moved toward her.
"Mom."
"I'm going home."
"I'll drive you."
"No."
"Please."
Helga shook her head.
"I need you to stay here."
"Why?"
She looked at Bianca.
Then Ewald.
Then back to Alexander.
"Because if you come with me, you'll spend tomorrow wondering what they would have said if you'd stayed."
Alexander stared at her.
Helga walked toward the doorway.
At the edge of the room, she stopped.
Then she turned.
"The recorder wasn't under that flowerpot because of tonight."
Bianca went very still.
Alexander looked confused.
Helga continued.
May you like
"I put it there three days ago."
Then she walked out.
