Jada stared at her father over the desk. “Oh.” it was a strange word to be saying, one that didn't ever seem to explain enough. It was a stupid, silly word, meant for people who couldn't understand what was happening to them. At the moment, she was one of these people. “Well...” she paused, eyes blinking. Her heart was thumping rapidly, confusion making her start to shake. “I see.” A job? She had to get a job? When did she have time for it? Her father was cutting back her allowance? Taking away her credit card! Limiting her to exactly what he gave her every month? Why? Had she done something wrong?
“Calm down.” Michael frowned at his daughter. She was pale, with wide and startled eyes, discomposed to a point he'd rarely seen in her. “It isn't like I am making all of this an order.” Not all of it. However, he had realized that his daughter knew nothing about the value of money. She was spoiled. And it was his fault, his and Szelem's, for cosseting her and giving her everything that struck her fancy. Jada was a younger version of her mother, down to the way she tilted her head when she was humoring her parents. “You don't have to move to New York.” he said it lamely. But he had a reason for what he was doing. He did. Jada was almost eighteen, and she knew nothing about money or how to handle it. Oh, she could spend it like a pro, but in terms of using it responsibly, she was a child. Michael looked down at the papers on his desk.
The seventeen year-old swallowed, looked down at her hands. Perfectly manicured fingernails, and underneath her hands a pair of jeans that cost her $500.00. Beyond that, shoes that cost her over $1000.00. And she was being told she would have to give this sort of thing up, even if only for a while? Gone her shopping sprees, gone the little things that made her so happy. Not for long; she was eighteen in just two months and twenty-something days. But that was two months and twenty-something days in which her spending was cut in more than half. “I know I don't have to move.” It was redundant to say it.
“It would make Zora and Lucas happy if you would come with us.” Michael watched his daughters face, blank and expressionless.
“I know.” Jada did know. Far too well. Lucas would be helpless with his support system cut in more than half. Or he'd be shipped off to a boarding school. Same with Jada's fears for Zora. Then again, Zora could fight her battles for herself. Lucas was like Jada.
Yes sir. No sir. Anything to make you happy, sir.
“If I go to New York...” Jada felt her voice catch. “Will you fix the issue with Mother and...”
“That is already being dealt with, whether you come to New York or not. It isn't good parenting, now is it?” Marrying your daughter off to an old man was poor parenting, and Michael was using it in the divorce like a hammer. He would have his children. All of them. Whether they wanted to be in his care or not. Minus the one who could make her own decisions, but he had his own devices to control Jada.
Purple eyes met purple eyes over a desk that had been covered in a lifetime of paperwork. A desk older than both of them, that had been used by men who built companies. An unusual situation. Michael had spent his life working, and now he was realizing what he'd neglected. The wife who had left him long ago, the children to whom he was a stranger. And this was all he could think of to try and help his daughter now. Take away her money. Teach her responsibility.
The harm of parents who meant well would be the end of her.
“I see.” She was a weapon. Nothing more. Against her own mother, Jada and her situation was being used as a knife, to twist and turn and take those few things Szelem treasured.
“Just think it over.” Michael looked down at the papers on his desk. “There is no hurry. You have to graduate, after all.”
Jada turned in her resignation as a student employee at the library the next afternoon. She needed to look for a job.
Not to mention she was facing other, greater issues.
“Calm down.” Michael frowned at his daughter. She was pale, with wide and startled eyes, discomposed to a point he'd rarely seen in her. “It isn't like I am making all of this an order.” Not all of it. However, he had realized that his daughter knew nothing about the value of money. She was spoiled. And it was his fault, his and Szelem's, for cosseting her and giving her everything that struck her fancy. Jada was a younger version of her mother, down to the way she tilted her head when she was humoring her parents. “You don't have to move to New York.” he said it lamely. But he had a reason for what he was doing. He did. Jada was almost eighteen, and she knew nothing about money or how to handle it. Oh, she could spend it like a pro, but in terms of using it responsibly, she was a child. Michael looked down at the papers on his desk.
The seventeen year-old swallowed, looked down at her hands. Perfectly manicured fingernails, and underneath her hands a pair of jeans that cost her $500.00. Beyond that, shoes that cost her over $1000.00. And she was being told she would have to give this sort of thing up, even if only for a while? Gone her shopping sprees, gone the little things that made her so happy. Not for long; she was eighteen in just two months and twenty-something days. But that was two months and twenty-something days in which her spending was cut in more than half. “I know I don't have to move.” It was redundant to say it.
“It would make Zora and Lucas happy if you would come with us.” Michael watched his daughters face, blank and expressionless.
“I know.” Jada did know. Far too well. Lucas would be helpless with his support system cut in more than half. Or he'd be shipped off to a boarding school. Same with Jada's fears for Zora. Then again, Zora could fight her battles for herself. Lucas was like Jada.
Yes sir. No sir. Anything to make you happy, sir.
“If I go to New York...” Jada felt her voice catch. “Will you fix the issue with Mother and...”
“That is already being dealt with, whether you come to New York or not. It isn't good parenting, now is it?” Marrying your daughter off to an old man was poor parenting, and Michael was using it in the divorce like a hammer. He would have his children. All of them. Whether they wanted to be in his care or not. Minus the one who could make her own decisions, but he had his own devices to control Jada.
Purple eyes met purple eyes over a desk that had been covered in a lifetime of paperwork. A desk older than both of them, that had been used by men who built companies. An unusual situation. Michael had spent his life working, and now he was realizing what he'd neglected. The wife who had left him long ago, the children to whom he was a stranger. And this was all he could think of to try and help his daughter now. Take away her money. Teach her responsibility.
The harm of parents who meant well would be the end of her.
“I see.” She was a weapon. Nothing more. Against her own mother, Jada and her situation was being used as a knife, to twist and turn and take those few things Szelem treasured.
“Just think it over.” Michael looked down at the papers on his desk. “There is no hurry. You have to graduate, after all.”
Jada turned in her resignation as a student employee at the library the next afternoon. She needed to look for a job.
Not to mention she was facing other, greater issues.
