Breakfast was oatmeal. Watery, lumpy oatmeal.
Frank sat at the head of the table, checking his watch every thirty seconds. He looked like he was about to be sick.
Suddenly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a white envelope. He slid it across the table toward Aria.
"It's not much," he said, his voice trembling. "But it's for a mattress. You can't sleep on that wood. I heard you walking around last night."
Aria opened the envelope. Inside were crumpled bills. Ones, fives, a few tens. Maybe a hundred and twenty dollars total.
Jenny stood up. She unzipped her backpack and slammed a roll of cash onto the table.
"Tips from the diner," she muttered, not meeting Aria's eyes. "Fifty bucks."
Leo pushed his Nintendo Switch across the table. "Sell it. I don't play it anyway."
Toby ran to his room and came back shaking a plastic piggy bank.
Aria looked at the pile on the table. The video game console, the crumpled tips, the piggy bank.
It was more money than they had. It was everything.
Her throat tightened. A physical lump formed, making it hard to swallow. In the Carlisle house, money was a weapon. Here, it was a bandage.
She pushed the envelope back to Frank. She pushed the money back to Jenny. She slid the game back to Leo.
"No," she said.
"Don't be proud, girl!" Susan cried out. "You're hurting!"
"I have money," Aria said. "I have... savings. From before."
"Liar," Leo said, but without heat. "Dad said they cut you off."
"I have a bad back," Aria said, improvising quickly. "A medical condition. I need a specific orthopedic bed. It costs thousands. This..." she gestured to the pile, "wouldn't even cover the delivery deposit."
Frank's face fell. He looked devastated.
"Keep the money," Aria said, grabbing Frank's rough hand. "Use it for Jenny's tuition. Use it for Toby. Investing in them is investing in me."
She stood up, grabbing her jacket. "I'm going to handle it. I have a contact who sells used medical equipment."
She walked out of the apartment before she could cry. She leaned against the graffiti-covered wall in the hallway and exhaled a shuddering breath.
She pulled out her phone and dialed.
Nate.
"I'm here," his voice answered instantly.
"I need a Hästens mattress. The Vividus. Delivered to Queens. Tonight."
There was a pause. "Aria. That's a four-hundred-thousand-dollar bed. You're putting it in a walk-up in Queens? You'll get robbed."
"No one will rob me," she said coldly. "And Nate?"
"Yeah?"
"Forge an invoice. Make the total two thousand, eight hundred dollars. Label it as 'Salvage Retrieval and sanitation fee'. Make it look like I paid to haul away a damaged hotel unit."
"You're insane," Nate said, but she could hear the smile in his voice. "It'll be there by six."
Aria hung up. She walked to the subway station.
A billboard loomed over the entrance. It was a Carlisle Group ad. Vanessa's face, airbrushed to perfection, smiled down at the commuters.
Aria stared at it. She didn't blink.
A homeless man bumped into her, his hand dipping clumsily into her pocket.
Aria caught his wrist. She didn't break it. She twisted it just enough to make him drop the wallet.
She reached into her other pocket and pulled out a card for a shelter she funded anonymously.
"Go here," she said, pressing it into his dirty palm. "Ask for Maria. Show her this card. Don't say who sent you. Just say: 'The debt is paid.' You'll get a hot meal and a bed."
The man stared at her, mouth agape.
Aria turned and descended into the subway, the darkness swallowing her whole.
