Chapter 5 - THE DAYCARE MONEY
Six thousand two hundred dollars had taken me most of a year to save.
Some of it came from the extra evaluations I'd done after school. Some came from a bonus Colin received at the hospital. We'd kept the money separate from our monthly bills because the triplets would need longer daycare hours when my fall schedule began.
Now the account held forty-three dollars and eighteen cents.
I called the daycare director. I knew her well enough that she asked whether everything was all right when I requested a copy of our payment history. Our children were enrolled and their current bill was paid. The deposit for the expanded hours had not been made; it wasn't due until the end of the month.
“Colin said he handled it,” I told her.
“We haven't received a deposit for the new schedule,” she said. “I can email the invoice to both of you.”
I asked her to do that. When I hung up, I made myself eat the sandwich I'd bought for lunch. I would need to think clearly when the children came home.
The bank statement showed where our money had gone only as far as Colin's personal account. Delia's receipt showed that he'd placed a deposit on an apartment the same day. The documents did not tell me how much of the $6,200 had paid for it, and I refused to guess. I saved them both.
Over the weekend I made a list of what the children needed for the next month: daycare, groceries, health insurance premiums, shoes for Leo, who seemed to grow out of them overnight. I also wrote down who had paid each bill since January. Colin and I had both contributed, though the work of remembering what was due had mostly fallen to me.
On our refrigerator was a calendar covered in different colored squares. Mine marked school days and the afternoons I stayed late for evaluations. Colin's marked his changing shifts at the hospital. A third color marked daycare closing times. Each week I had arranged pickups around his hours as carefully as mine. Looking at it, I could see how he'd found time to tour an apartment while I believed we were barely managing our existing schedule.
I photographed the calendar because it showed the routines we'd actually followed. Then I packed the triplets' daycare bags for Monday. The familiar work steadied me, but it made me angry too. Colin could announce a different life to Miles and Delia. Our children's clean cups still had to be ready by morning.
On Monday I met with a family-law attorney for an initial consultation. I brought statements, the daycare invoice, Colin's wedding texts, and the notes I'd made about the children's routines. She asked what I wanted to protect immediately. I told her the triplets' care and their ability to keep the same daycare and home while we worked out what came next.
We talked through ways to keep records and propose a temporary arrangement in writing. She didn't promise that photographs from a wedding would decide anything about parenting. I hadn't expected them to. What mattered to me was being able to distinguish Colin's promises from what had actually happened.
That night I asked him about the transfer.
He was sitting in the guest room, still wearing his hospital badge. He set it facedown on the dresser when he saw my phone.
“The daycare says you never paid the deposit,” I told him.
“I moved the money because I was looking into other options.”
“An apartment?”
He stood up. “Did Delia give you my address?”
“She gave me a receipt. I can see the transfer from our savings. Where's the rest of the money?”
“I still have expenses, Audrey. I'm not going to account for every dollar while you collect statements behind my back.”
“It was money we saved for the children. I need to know whether it's available for them.”
He said he'd spent years paying for our house and that I was acting as if he had stolen from strangers. I had paid the rent from my own paycheck more than once when his car needed repairs. I reminded him of that, but we were soon arguing over individual payments rather than the question I'd asked.
I stopped. “Send me an accounting tomorrow. Until then, don't tell me the daycare deposit was paid.”
He didn't agree. I left before either of us raised our voice enough to wake the children.
Tuesday morning I texted him a proposal: he could pick up the triplets from daycare Thursday and spend the afternoon with them at the house. I would be back before dinner. If he wanted a different arrangement, he could suggest one. He read the message but didn't answer.
At four, while I was helping Iris fit a wooden shape into the wrong hole for the fifth time, Colin's mother called.
“Audrey, can we please see the children?” Ruth sounded close to tears. “Colin says you took them away and won't let him visit.”
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I looked at the three toddlers on the living room rug. Colin had eaten breakfast with them in that very room before leaving for work.
“Ruth,” I said, “he was here this morning.”
