broken claims

Part 25

"Some day this'll be yours."

Leigh wasn't sure if the offer was for Richard's office or some unseen empire. She was sitting crosslegged on a chair opposite from his big desk and he was half bent behind it, stashing cash in a safe. "Yeah?" She tried to be polite, looking up from her binder. She had idly been scratching away at math homework to pass time and wasn't sure if she had gotten any of it right.

"Maybe in the summer we can take you the old campus. Give you a taste for what you might like."

"Sounds great."

"Your mother won't be interested but I think you might enjoy yourself. Sometimes it helps seeing a future to strive for."

"What's the money for?" Leigh asked, subtly changing the topic from anything to do with Sharley. She was supposed to be present for weekly phone calls with her mother in her latest rehab clinic but bailed on the last two, uncomfortable with talking to someone she didn't want to talk to with both her grandparents watching.

Richard shut the door and twisted the dial before standing up. "Emergencies."

"That's a lot of cash for an emergency."

"I like keeping it available just in case. You never know when the world will end."

She dropped her pencil. "You think the world ending will require large amounts of cash?"

Richard sat down in her desk chair and sighed. "I think money will always be physically present no matter what state the world is in. It helps me sleep better knowing that this family has it in abundance."

Of course they did. They lived in a mansion complete with maids and glass chandeliers. Money spilled out from every corridor. Sharley kept cycling in and out of rehabs and retreats that had more in common with a spa than something to sober her up long term. Leigh wasn't supposed to think about her dad and their trailer anymore but her mind went there anyways, comparing their tiny home to her current.

"Does my—" Leigh cut herself off before she said the word 'dad'. Her grandparents had subtly started correcting her, removing the term from her speech. And she rarely allowed herself to speak about him out loud to prevent such corrections. "Does Daryl pay child support? Or something?"

There was a folder on his desk that Richard reached for, pulling it open and tugging out a slip of paper covered in dense numbers. "He does. There's an account for your future education he puts money into. When you're of age, it'll be transferred into your name."

"Oh."

"I imagine it makes him feel better. Eases the guilt, so to speak."

"Sure."

"Don't worry, Rosalie. You'll always be taken care of in this family. I have already put savings together to establish your future with. You needn't touch anything from him."

.

"You gotta try. It ain't bad," Daryl attempted weakly, crouching beside her as he rummaged through his pack, pulling back the left over dog meat. "I know you're running on empty, Leigh."

"No."

"I don't want you getting sick again."

Leigh didn't want to be sick again. She shoved aside those memories and tried not to look at the humble offering of dog meat. "I can't do it."

It killed her to admit it. She hadn't forgotten what it was like starving with her mother's group. She was repeating the process with the intense hunger pains and flickering periods of dizziness, struggling to keep moving on a path. But traveling meant wasting energy and she didn't have much of it left.