Mark extended one hand toward me.
“You can give him the check now.”
The room became expectant.
I folded my napkin, placed it beside my plate, and met his eyes.
“I didn’t bring one.”
The applause ended unevenly.
Several people lowered their hands slowly. My mother’s smile tightened.
Mark laughed as though I had delivered the opening line of a joke.
“She likes suspense,” he told everyone.
I reached for the locked document case beside my chair.
“No,” I said. “I like accurate records.”
Two weeks earlier, Mark had walked into the elevator inspection office where I worked and dropped an invoice onto my desk.
“Pay Ethan’s spring semester,” he said.
The paper listed tuition, housing, meals, technology fees, and a new laptop.
The total was exactly $16,000.
“I’m not paying this,” I told him.
Mark remained standing.
“It’s college.”
