Chapter 2: The Door Upstairs
The party ended twenty minutes later.
No cake.
No photographs.
No goodbye hugs.
People left carrying untouched cupcakes in little gold boxes while I stood in the kitchen staring at Nia’s wrist.
My mother had refused to explain anything in front of the children.
Vanessa had refused to explain anything at all.
And Nia had gone upstairs.
I found her sitting on the edge of her bed with her knees pulled against her chest.
Her bedroom smelled like lavender detergent and the vanilla candle she kept on her desk.
She had always loved that room.
Tonight, she looked like she wanted to escape it.
I knocked lightly.
“Can I come in?””
A pause.
“Okay.””
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
Nia was staring at her hands.
I sat beside her.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I said, “Your grandmother said she had seen that mark before.””
Nia's shoulders tightened.
“Dad…”
“I’m not angry.””
“You look angry.””
“I’m scared.””
She looked at me.
That seemed to surprise her.
I took a breath.
“I'm scared because I should have known.””
“You didn't.””
“I should have.””
“You were working.””
“I was living in this house.””
She looked down.
I leaned forward.
“Did Vanessa hurt you?””
Nia’s eyes filled with tears.
But she didn't answer.
“Nia.””
“I don't want you to leave.””
The words hit me in the chest.
“I’m not going anywhere.””
“She says you will.””
My stomach dropped.
“Who?””
Nia wiped her cheek with her sleeve.
“Vanessa.””
“What does she say?””
“She says wives don't stay when their husbands choose children over them.””
I stared at her.
“When did she say that?””
“Lots of times.””
“How many times?””
She shrugged.
“Enough.””
I stood.
“Dad?””
I forced myself to sit back down.
“I'm here.””
She hesitated.
Then she whispered, “She said Mom couldn't keep you either.””
I felt the room tilt.
My first wife, Elena, had died six years earlier.
Nia had been six.
There were things about Elena’s death that we didn't discuss often.
Not because they were secrets.
Because grief had a way of turning ordinary conversations into minefields.
But Vanessa knew exactly where those mines were.
“What did she mean?”” I asked.
Nia shook her head.
“She said I was just like Mom.””
“What does that mean?””
“She said I knew how to make people feel sorry for me.””
I closed my eyes.
A memory surfaced.
Elena sitting at the kitchen table, rubbing her wrist.
Me asking if she was okay.
Her saying she'd bumped into the cabinet.
I had believed her.
Or maybe I had wanted to.
When I opened my eyes, Nia was watching me.
“Dad?””
I reached for her hand.
“You're not in trouble.””
She nodded.
Then there was a knock.
My mother opened the door before I could answer.
“Marcus.””
I stood.
“What happened with Elena?””
She looked at Nia.
“Can I talk to you alone?””
Nia immediately said, “No.””
My mother blinked.
I looked at my daughter.
“You want to stay?””
She nodded.
“Then she stays.””
My mother sighed.
“Six years ago, your wife called me.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
“She called me from the hospital.””
I felt cold.
“Mom, Elena died in the hospital.””
“I know.””
“You told me she fell down the stairs.””
My mother’s eyes filled with tears.
“I told you what Elena asked me to tell you.””
I couldn't speak.
Nia slid off the bed.
“Dad…”
I looked at my mother.
“What did she say?””
“She told me she was afraid.””
“Of what?””
My mother glanced toward the hallway.
“Vanessa.””
The name sounded impossible.
Vanessa wasn't even supposed to know Elena well.
They had met only twice before Elena died.
I shook my head.
“No.””
My mother stepped closer.
“Elena told me Vanessa had been contacting her.””
“Why?””
“She never said.””
“Mom.””
“She said Vanessa wanted something.””
“What?””
My mother hesitated.
Then she reached into her purse.
She pulled out a folded envelope.
“I kept this because Elena made me promise.””
I stared at it.
My name was written across the front.
My handwriting wasn't.
Elena's was.
My hands went numb.
“Why didn't you give me this?””
“Because she made me swear I'd only give it to you if Vanessa ever became part of your family.””
My heart pounded.
“And you waited?””
“I hoped I would never have to.””
Nia stepped closer.
“What does it say?””
I looked at my daughter.
“I don't know.””
I opened the envelope.
Inside was one sheet of paper.
Only three lines.
*Marcus,*
*If Vanessa ever becomes a mother to my children, don't let her be alone with Nia.*
*Ask her what happened on November 14.*
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
“What happened November 14?”” I whispered.
My mother shook her head.
“I don't know.””
I looked at Nia.
“Do you?””
She had gone pale.
Her eyes were fixed on the paper.
“I know that date.””
“How?””
She didn't answer.
“Nia?””
She slowly backed toward her desk.
“That was the day Mom died.””
My heart stopped.
“That was December 3.””
“No.””
She shook her head.
“December 3 was when they told us.””
I stared at her.
“Then what happened November 14?””
Nia looked toward the bedroom door.
Her voice became almost inaudible.
“That was the day Vanessa first came to our house.””
A floorboard creaked in the hallway.
All three of us turned.
The door was open.
Nobody was there.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
There was one sentence.
*You should have asked Elena sooner.*
Below it was a photograph.
It showed Vanessa standing outside my house six years ago.
But she wasn't alone.
Beside her stood Elena.
And between them was a little girl.
A girl who looked exactly like Nia.
I looked at my daughter.
“Nia… who took this picture?””
She stared at the screen.
May you like
Then she whispered,
“Dad, that's not me.””
