Family Landlords Raise the Rent to Force One Sister Out
He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small, folded piece of blue paper.
“I wanted to give you this,” he said, holding it out toward me. “It is not much, but it is from my personal account.”
I looked at the blue paper, recognizing the bank logo on the corner of the check.
“I do not need money, Dad,” I said.
“Take it,” he said. “Please. It would make me feel better about how things went.”
“I am not responsible for making you feel better about this,” I said.
He let his hand drop, the blue check folding slightly against his palm before he slid it back into his pocket.
The silence returned, filling the space between us like cold water.
“We used to be a family that could discuss things,” he said, turning toward the window to look down at the street below.
“We were a family where Vanessa got what she wanted and I paid for it,” I said.
He did not argue with me, which was his usual way of handling any statement that required a choice.
