Chapter 3 - The Days Marcus Was Gone
Marcus slept in Maya’s room that night.
Not because Maya asked him to.
Because she asked if Camille could still unlock her bedroom door.
That question made the decision for him.
He carried a blanket into Maya’s room and slept on the floor beside her bed.
Camille stayed in the master bedroom.
They barely spoke.
At seven the next morning, Marcus called his supervisor.
“I need emergency family leave.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know yet.”
For the first time in eleven years, Marcus did not care what the answer cost him professionally.
He made Maya pancakes.
She watched him carefully while eating.
After the second pancake, she stopped.
“You can have another,” Marcus said.
“Really?”
His stomach turned.
“Whenever you’re hungry.”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Even if Camille says no?”
Marcus put down the spatula.
“Camille isn’t making food rules for you anymore.”
Maya nodded.
She still did not reach for another pancake.
Marcus placed one on her plate anyway.
Later, after Maya went upstairs to get dressed, Camille entered the kitchen.
“You’re making me the villain.”
Marcus laughed once without humor.
“You put a padlock on food.”
“You travel. You don’t see what happens.”
“That is exactly what I’m beginning to understand.”
Camille folded her arms.
“Maya started acting out after we married.”
“What does that have to do with feeding her?”
“She wastes food. She lies. She breaks rules. She resents me.”
“She’s eight.”
“She’s old enough to manipulate you.”
Marcus stared at her.
“Did you disable the cameras?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I live here too. I don’t like feeling watched.”
“Then why turn them back on before I come home?”
Camille hesitated.
That hesitation answered him.
Marcus had spent years managing construction crews. He knew what people looked like when they were deciding which version of events would create the least damage.
Camille chose indignation.
“You’re interrogating me in my own home.”
“Our home.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Marcus heard himself say the word and remembered the pantry labels.
Marcus.
Camille.
Maya — ask first.
Even inside their home, Camille had drawn borders.
Maya came downstairs wearing her backpack.
Marcus drove her to school himself.
As they approached Cedar Grove Elementary, Maya grew quiet.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Are you leaving today?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
Her fingers tightened around one backpack strap.
“When?”
“I’m not going anywhere until we figure this out.”
She stared out the window.
Then she said, “Okay.”
It sounded like relief.
At the school entrance, a woman stepped toward them.
“Mr. Reed?”
Marcus recognized Maya’s counselor, Dana Coleman.
They had met once at a school event.
“Do you have a minute?”
Maya looked nervous.
Marcus crouched.
“You go ahead. I’ll see you after school.”
When Maya disappeared through the doors, Ms. Coleman lowered her voice.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
The words immediately unsettled him.
“Why?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you.”
Marcus frowned.
“I haven’t received anything.”
She looked surprised.
“I emailed twice. I also called the home number.”
“What about?”
Ms. Coleman studied him.
“Maya has been coming to my office asking for snacks.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“How long?”
“Since late spring.”
He opened them again.
“She told us she sometimes wasn’t hungry at breakfast.”
“That isn’t true.”
“I suspected that.”
Ms. Coleman continued carefully.
“About six weeks ago, she took crackers from another student’s lunch bag. When we talked privately, she cried and said she was hungry.”
Marcus felt physically sick.
“Why wasn’t I called?”
“You were.”
He pulled out his phone.
Ms. Coleman gave him the date.
Marcus searched.
Nothing.
“No call.”
“We spoke to Mrs. Reed.”
Of course.
“What did she tell you?”
“That Maya had developed compulsive eating habits after grief-related anxiety. She said your pediatrician recommended controlling access to food.”
Marcus stared.
“No doctor ever said that.”
Ms. Coleman’s face changed.
“There’s something else.”
She led him to her office and pulled up an email.
The sender address was one Marcus recognized.
His own.
The message read:
Dana, Camille has my full permission to handle Maya’s behavioral concerns while I travel. Please follow her instructions regarding food and discipline. Maya has been lying more recently, so please verify anything she tells you with Camille first. — Marcus
Marcus read the email twice.
Then a third time.
“I didn’t write this.”
Ms. Coleman went silent.
Marcus looked at the timestamp.
He remembered exactly where he had been that day.
A hotel in Savannah.
He had called Maya that evening.
She had barely spoken.
Marcus stood.
His anger was no longer loud.
It had become something colder.
May you like
Someone had used his identity to teach every adult around Maya not to believe her.
And Camille knew the password to his email.
