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“But Mama…”
“Has already agreed.” My father shuffles some papers on the desk.
I swallow hard, holding back the tears that I already know he won’t appreciate. “For how long?”
“That depends on your behavior. We have much to accomplish in a very short period of time. I won’t have you claiming the Van Koch name if you cannot live up to the expectations that go along with it.”
A sense of foreboding washes over me. I don’t know precisely what he means, but I’m certain that I won’t be looking at a future full of only theme parks and shopping trips.
For the first time since I arrived, emotion peeks through the walls I’ve erected to hide it.
I’m scared and I know he can see it.
My father’s expression turns stern. “You don’t want all the things that I have provided, the new clothes and computer?”
I do want those things, but not if it means never going home to Mama and Felicia. “I want my family to have that stuff, too. If I go home, then I can share.”
A gleam enters his eye, as if I’ve said precisely what he hoped I would. “Do you know what this is?”
“No.”
“This is a bank draft. It’s made out to your mother. You can see her name there. As a Van Koch, you will be able to take care of her in ways that would never be possible otherwise. Don’t you want to take care of your mother, make sure she has everything she needs?”
“I want to go home.”
“This check could be the first of many.” He dangles the paper in his fingers like it’s the lure on a fishing line. “I am willing to provide for your mother and your half-sister, give them a better life. But only if you agree to become a boy worthy of being my heir. If you choose to leave, then I won’t be able to offer them anything. And I’ll see to it that you never will, either.”
I’m old enough to understand that he just made a threat, even if I don’t know exactly what he means.
I remember the desperation I saw on Mama’s face when she pulled that notice down from our door. I think of how many times I’ve gone to bed hungry because I snuck most of my food to Felicia when Mama wasn’t looking, then claimed I’d had enough to eat. I knew that if Mama figured out how hungry I was, she would have given me the food off her own plate. But then she wouldn’t have had the strength that she needed to earn the money for our next meal.
“Do we have a deal?” he asks.
It’s better that I be the one to go hungry, even if it’s just for affection and love.
“I’ll stay.”
My father nods once and opens the drawer beside him. “Hold out your hand.”
The metal ruler is barely more than a streak through the air as it whips across the back of my wrist.
The pain lances through me, sharp as a knife’s edge. I open my mouth to cry out, but shut it again at the look on his face.
Crying will only make him hit me harder the next time.
“This is the last time you will argue with me, is that understood?” His eyes narrow as he glares at me from across the desk. “Your lessons in what it means to be a Van Koch start now.”
I can only rapidly nod as I cradle my injured hand. The pain continues, but doesn’t get worse as I move it so I don’t think anything is broken.
It’s only in that moment that I realize his gifts will always come with strings attached. The computer and the clothes, the good food, none of it was provided solely out of the goodness of his heart.
He wants to make sure that I know what I stand to lose if I won’t do things his way.
And what my family stands to lose.
When he grips my chin and turns my face so I’m looking at him, it’s only my own stubbornness that keeps angry tears at bay.
My father smirks. “We’ll make a Van Koch of you, yet.”
