Atlanta, 1983
For years, Daniella believed that if she gave everything she had to the firm, made herself absolutely essential, she would one day be made a partner at Henritz & Powers. It wasn’t so much the financial gain she craved—though the security would have been nice—but the recognition of her effort and skill. But no matter how hard she worked, no such payoff came, only empty platitudes and last year’s request from Bob to bring her “wonderful brownies” to the firm Christmas party, which was catered, making the request even more infuriating. So she plotted her escape and applied for the salaried position at the Southern Center for Human Rights.
She was stunned by how upset Sarah was when she learned that the new job at the SCHR would pay less than Daniella’s current position. It would be a significant pay cut, yes, but it wasn’t as if her new position was going to put them in the poorhouse. It wasn’t as if she and Sarah were at risk of going hungry. She owned the Morningside house outright, and the rental income she received for the basement studio helped offset the property taxes. And Sarah was at a good public school where she was in the Gifted and Talented program, excelling in her classes, and where she was certainly learning more about the diverse makeup of the city than Anna was at the posh, protected Coventry School.
Was it normal for a ten-year-old to be so focused on money? Perhaps it had been a mistake for Sarah to have spent so much of her childhood with Eve, Eve who seemed to feel that any outing with the girls that did not result in the purchase of a “little happy” wasn’t worth making. Had the exposure to so much wealth and excess taught her daughter the wrong values?
She thought of what Pete would say. She talked to him sometimes—to his spirit, his memory. She talked to him most often in her bed late at night when her mind raced with worries. Surely he would tell her that Sarah was not inherently selfish, that her hysterical response to the news that Daniella would be making less money was completely normal, a big reaction to a big change. He would remind her that for Sarah, who had lost her father so unexpectedly, change was inherently scary. She’s a good kid, he would tell her. You’re doing a good job.
Pete had always possessed more faith in their parenting skills than she had. Of course, it had been easier for him to assume they were doing a good job; he wasn’t breaking any rules when he became a father. It was absolutely expected that he would enjoy both fatherhood and a career that gave him some vestige of authority in the world. But the same assumptions did not apply to Daniella. For her, the choice not to quit when she had Sarah, or at least cut back on her hours, was unorthodox at best. So from the moment she returned to work full-time, when Sarah was three months old, she was going off script, at least for a woman from her upper-middle-class background. Working-class women, of course, always went back to work.
Daniella felt certain she was a good lawyer, but she was not always so certain that she was a good mother. The self-doubt could be intense. At her worst moments she accused herself of pawning Sarah off, letting a black woman do the thankless task of childcare while letting a rich white woman spoil her.
Well, there was some truth to that.
• • •
Funny that she hadn’t even considered taking Sarah to a therapist until more than three years after Pete’s death, when Sarah had what Daniella assumed could only be a panic attack upon hearing that Daniella planned to change jobs. She supposed that in those first few years of widowhood she was too lost in her own grief to think about finding professional help for Sarah. And honestly, until lately Sarah had seemed okay. She brought up her father easily and often, and she loved to look through old photo albums, studying the pictures of him, particularly Pete and Daniella’s wedding album, when the two of them were so very young. Weren’t such reactions normal and appropriate—even healthy?
Daniella had consulted the guidance counselor at Sarah’s school for the name of a good child psychologist. She was told that Dr. Ruth Stein was the best. Dr. Stein (who had told Daniella during their first phone consultation to “call me Ruth”) was an attractive woman in her late forties or early fifties with shiny, dark chin-length hair. Daniella only met her briefly before Sarah’s first session, when Ruth appeared in the waiting room outside her office to shake Daniella’s hand and usher Sarah in. Sarah spoke with Ruth alone during her first three visits and didn’t offer much to Daniella about the sessions other than to say that she liked going to them. (After that first appointment, Eve volunteered to drive Sarah to see Ruth.) But for the fourth visit, Daniella was asked to join. She took the afternoon off work to do so.
Upon entering the office, Daniella immediately noticed a large bowl of Hershey’s Kisses on the coffee table near Sarah, along with several clear glass bottles placed throughout the room, each filled with the balled-up aluminum foil wrappers. She observed that her daughter already had two balled-up candy wrappers on her lap.
Once Daniella settled herself on the couch beside her daughter and reached for her own Hershey’s Kiss, Ruth cut to the chase. “Sarah has a lot of anxiety around scarcity. She is afraid that the things she loves will be taken away.”
“Is that right, sweetheart?” Daniella asked. Sarah nodded, her eyes on Ruth and not Daniella.
If she had been alone with Ruth, Daniella would have asked exactly how it was that she was supposed to deal with Sarah’s worry that the things she loved would be taken away. Something Sarah desperately loved—or rather, a person Sarah desperately loved—had been taken away.
But Daniella was pretty sure she was not supposed to point that out.
“I think Sarah needs some reassurance that her life will not be upset by you switching jobs,” Ruth continued.
All three were quiet for a moment, and then with a start Daniella realized that both Sarah and Ruth were waiting for her to say something.
“Honey,” she said, turning to look straight at Sarah. “Assuming I take the position, which I believe I will, the basic facts of your life will not change. You will still be my beloved daughter. You will still be a fifth grader at Morningside Elementary. You will still go to Aunt Eve’s house after school. Ada will still try to get you to eat more vegetables. We will still watch Family Ties every Thursday night. And I will still love you more than anything else in the world.”
Sarah turned and made eye contact with her, smiling shyly. Daniella allowed herself the private acknowledgment that, in that moment at least, she had said the right thing.
They went on to discuss more ideas for how Daniella could make the transition easier for Sarah. They agreed that she wouldn’t talk about her cases at home (they were too scary and sad) and that as long as Sarah was in bed by 9:30 p.m. Daniella would save any work she needed to do at night until after Sarah was asleep. That way the early evenings could be theirs. And twice a month she and Sarah would have a Saturday-night date, doing something fun, just the two of them.
• • •
The weekend after that session, Daniella and Sarah were all set for their first date. The Sound of Music was airing on television, starting at 9:00 p.m., and they planned to watch it while eating Domino’s pizza followed by popcorn and M&M’s. But first Daniella needed a shower, having played tennis that afternoon at Piedmont Park with her old friend from Belmont, Kitty.
Daniella took a leisurely shower, toweled off, and then sat on her bed with a towel on her head, rubbing Jergen’s lotion into her legs and listening to H. Johnson’s Jazz Classics on the radio. She liked the music, but it was Johnson’s commentary that she loved, that and his mellifluous voice, which always left her craving a cigarette. She kept a pack of Virginia Slims in the drawer of her bedside table for when the urge really hit. Just as she was reaching for the drawer handle, Sarah burst into her room. Her daughter knew that she smoked occasionally, but she highly disapproved. Daniella was glad she hadn’t yet retrieved the package.
“Aunt Eve is here,” Sarah said. “And she seems upset.”
“She’s here right now?”
Sarah nodded. “She says she needs to talk.”
That was odd. Eve and Bob had a standing date at the Coach and Six on Saturday nights, where they were always seated at the same table and began their evening with a cocktail.
“Tell her I’m getting dressed, but I’ll be out as soon as I can.”
Sarah glared at her with locked jaw.
Daniella glanced at her watch, which she had put on the bedside table before showering. She put it back on her wrist. It was only 8:15.
“Sweetheart, I promise I will kick Eve out at nine if I have to. I’m not forgetting about our date.”
“Okay. I’ll order the pizza. Can we get a large?”
• • •
Daniella walked into the kitchen having hastily dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. She had taken a minute to blow-dry her hair so that it wasn’t dripping wet, but the ends still dampened the shoulders of her shirt. Eve, her eyes puffy, was already sitting at the table, having helped herself to a Tab from the fridge. Or maybe Sarah had gotten it for her, Sarah who was sitting at the dining room table in the adjacent room, pretending to read one of her Sweet Valley High books.
“Sarah, honey!” called Daniella. “Why don’t you go to my room and watch TV while Eve and I talk.”
“Pizza’s on the way” Sarah said, her voice tight. “And the movie starts at nine.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetie. Just give us a few minutes.”
Sarah walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a Coke, then took the bag of Fig Newtons from the pantry. Daniella didn’t bother reminding her that they were soon going to eat, her silence a peace offering for letting Eve barge in on their special night.
As soon as she was certain her daughter was gone, she asked Eve what was wrong.
“It’s Ada,” Eve said.
“Oh God, has something happened?”
“No, nothing like that. She’s found a house she wants to buy, in Kirkwood, near a new MARTA station.”
“That sounds promising. God, her commute time would be so much shorter if she could take the train to Ansley Park.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. The problem is, she can’t afford to buy the house outright, so she needs a loan.”
“I imagine it will be difficult for her to secure a loan on a housekeeper’s salary.”
“She’s actually found a place that will give it to her, some little credit union in Little Five Points.”
“I know that place! Very community oriented. I think the Mennonites helped get it started. Or maybe it was the Quakers. Anyway, how wonderful that they’re willing to make the loan!”
“The problem is they won’t give Ada the loan outright. She has to have a co-signer, even though she actually has a bit of money saved for the down payment, and from what I can tell she could actually make the mortgage payments based on her salary. We pay her a lot more than the going rate, you know.”
“Couldn’t you or Bob co-sign the loan? Surely it’s not much of a risk if Ada earns enough money to make the payments.”
“That’s the problem. Bob won’t do it. He just refuses, and nothing I say can convince him otherwise. Ada gave him the address of the house and he went and looked at it with Buddy, our handyman. He said that even without going inside he and Buddy saw lots of things wrong with it, including the fact that the brick piers it’s built on seem to be crumbling and it needs a new roof. He says that Ada would be getting in over her head, that the house needs way too much work for a single woman working as a domestic to keep up with. He even suggested that Ada could live in our garage apartment if she needs a better space that’s closer to work.”
“Where the girls have a playroom?”
“Yes, but we would fix it up.”
“I take it Ada wasn’t interested,” Daniella said, pressing her lips together to avoid saying anything about Bob that she might later regret.
“No, she wasn’t.”
“How heartbreaking for Ada.”
Eve, who was starting to cry, dug around in her purse for a Kleenex, which she used to blot her eyes. “I’ve never heard her so excited in my life as when she was telling me about this house. It’s owned by a woman who goes to her church and is also on the Motherboard, which I think is some sort of a leadership position. She’s moving in with her daughter and son-in-law, and would love a fellow church member to buy the home from her, so she’s offering Ada a good price. Ada even said there’s a sunny spot for a garden in the back, and you know how gifted Ada is at growing things. Oh, Daniella. This is the first time she’s ever directly asked me for anything. But Bob just refuses. A flat-out ‘no.’ And the terrible thing is, his reasons for saying no make sense. It would be awful for Ada to get in over her head. Bob says he’s only looking out for her, but I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Daniella looked at Eve, who had torn the Kleenex she was holding into tiny little strips. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, so different from the more formal style she normally wore, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She looked younger than usual. She looked more like the college girl Daniella once knew.
“What’s the sale price?”
“Nineteen thousand dollars.”
“Old homes almost always have a ton of stuff wrong with them. My God, this place was a mess when Pete and I first bought it, but we just chipped away at the problems bit by bit. Don’t you think Ada could do that?”
“It’s a moot point. Bob won’t sign.”
“But surely you have nineteen thousand dollars of your own. Why not give Ada the money she needs to purchase the house outright?”
“She would still have to pay for taxes and upkeep.”
“But she has to pay rent now. There’s not going to be a scenario where she doesn’t have to pay anything. And this way she’d own something, which I would think Bob would approve of. Isn’t he always going on about the importance of ownership and private property?”
This was as close as Daniella would come to criticizing Bob in front of Eve.
“I don’t have a job. I don’t just have nineteen thousand dollars to give. I don’t have unfettered access to money like you do.”
“I’d hardly qualify what I earn as ‘unfettered access to money.’ ”
“Of course not. All I mean is that I don’t have my own money. Bob writes me a check every month for our household expenses. It’s a generous check for sure, but it hasn’t left me with an extra nineteen thousand dollars lying around. And the money I’ve received from my parents is tied up in investments that Bob handles.”
“What about co-signing the loan and just not telling Bob?”
“Why would the credit union offer me a loan? I have no income. And even if they did allow me to co-sign, I couldn’t do that. It’s just—it’s not how my relationship with Bob works. He would be so upset to know I went behind his back about something so significant. I mean, I know plenty of women hide things when it comes to their husbands and money—Mother certainly did—but this is a different situation than, say, buying an expensive dress and tearing up the receipt.”
“What if you don’t lie to him but just . . . stand up to him? Say, ‘Hey, Bob, listen up! Either we are going to give Ada the money to buy the house outright or you are going to co-sign the loan with her.’ ”
During the ensuing silence, Daniella thought she heard a noise from the other side of the kitchen door, a sort of popping sound. She wondered if Sarah was positioned there, eating her Fig Newtons and listening in. She wondered what Sarah would think of all this.
When Eve finally spoke, her voice was steadier than before, more forceful. “I’m sorry, Daniella, I really am, but I’m not going to choose to do something that would sabotage the peace that Bob and I have found with each other. What kind of thanks would that be after all he’s done? My God. I was drowning and he saved me. I’m not going to turn around and throw sand in his eye. But listen . . . if you think it’s a good idea for Ada to purchase the house . . . maybe you could co-sign the loan?”
“God, I wish I could afford to,” said Daniella.
“Bob said last year was a great one for both you and the firm.”
Oh, fuck you, Bob, Daniella thought. She wanted to tell Eve that she was leaving her job for a position that paid significantly less in order to use her law degree to help people, rather than continue using it to help corporate executives find “creative solutions” to ease their tax burden. But if she told Eve all that, Eve would surely tell Bob, and that was not how she wanted to handle her resignation.
Besides, she didn’t have to justify her financial situation to Eve. Eve might claim that all of her money was tied up in investments, but the point was, she had money to tie up. She had so much money that Bob could probably retire and they would still be able to live as lavishly as they did now. Whereas Daniella was the sole provider for Sarah.
And Eve, who had literally never held a job outside of pouring coffee and teaching in some half-baked, unaccredited “free” school, wanted her to co-sign a loan with Ada when she and Bob probably spent nineteen thousand dollars on vacations alone last year.
Daniella voiced none of this, saying instead that as the sole provider for Sarah, she didn’t feel comfortable taking on a house loan with Ada.
“I am so sorry,” she said. “I feel terrible.”
The two women looked at each other for a moment. It occurred to Daniella that they each wanted reassurance from the other. And then the doorbell rang and Sarah, who surely had been eavesdropping from the other side of the door, burst in, demanding money to pay for the pizza. Eve gathered her purse and stood, announcing that she would “skedaddle” so the two of them could enjoy their evening together. Daniella was glad to see her go.