Vanessa retired the ledger to a box labeled taxes. Labeled was the family repair. She told Patrice the label. Patrice said taxes is fair. Fair was a word that had survived. They did not open the box. Opening was a relapse. Relapse was a scene. Scenes were retired. The label was enough. Enough was the campaign. Greens stayed salty. The joke stayed. Imani still said still salty. The inheritance of a joke was the softest thing Vanessa had given the table. She had given the hard thing first. Both were required. Patrice could hold both. Both was the point of the Thursday. She held it on a Friday, in a kitchen, with a knife that cut clean.
A child in the family asked Patrice why grace was short. Patrice said because we already know who is here. The child said okay. Okay was a education. Derrick heard and did not add a speech. Not adding was growth. Growth was late. Late was their style. The child ran through. Running was the correct noise. The game scored. Somebody cheered. The cheer was a play. Patrice cheered once, small, for the play. Small cheers were allowed. They were not for secrets. Secrets were over. The over was the win. She took a slice. The slice was enough. The chair was in a stack. The stack was a basement. The basement was not the table. Location. Truth. She lived in the truth. It was ugly and bank-colored and sweet at the edges. She could live there. She did.
Imani’s first full paycheck was a text to Lorraine and a text to Derrick that said you can stop the extra. Derrick called Patrice to the table and put it on speaker. Showing. Lorraine was on the other line by accident of timing, and it became three for a minute. Three was new. Patrice said that is her money. Imani said yes. Derrick said then the school part ends and the birthday call stays. Imani said the call can stay. The stay was chosen. Chosen was different from a carbon in a dead woman’s papers. Patrice felt the difference and did not make it a toast. She said good. Good traveled. The extra stopped. The first of the month came off the calendar. The coming off was a graduation of a different kind. She did not mark it with a pie. Marking was a shrine. She washed the square of the calendar until the pencil went. Pencil gone was enough.
The chair in the basement got loaned to a neighbor for a party and came back. Derrick said we can let it stay loaned. Patrice said let it stay loaned. Vanessa said good. The neighbor kept it. A chair that had been a lie became a seat at a different house for a plastic table. Plastic was fine. Use was fine. Symbol was over. Patrice thought of the hand on the chair back and did not need the object anymore. The object had done its job by being empty and then by leaving. Leaving was Vanessa’s sentence, completed by a neighbor. Completion was accidental and correct.