Chapter 6: The Photos In The Burgundy Purse
Teresa fell asleep on the sofa with her mouth open a little. Her breathing had gone slow and even, and her burgundy dress had ridden up just enough to show the edge of her slip. Her purse was on the cushion beside her feet, the clasp unlatched, the brown leather slumped open.
Sophia and her brother were on the rug in front of the TV. I’d put on cartoons to keep them still, and Sophia had her doll in her lap, both of them in those matching lavender dresses. Her left arm was tucked close to her body. The red mark had faded to pink but it was still there when she moved. The open suitcase was still by the wall where I’d left it, and the smashed cake was still on its purple base on the hardwood because I hadn’t had the energy to clean it.
I stood in the kitchen doorway and watched Teresa’s chest rise and fall. I told myself I was just going to get a glass of water. Then I told myself I was just going to move her purse so the kids didn’t knock it over. My hands were shaking and I had to breathe through my nose to steady them.
The purse was heavier than it looked. I lifted it by the handles and set it on the far end of the sofa, away from her feet, and the contents shifted. I saw the corner of a white envelope and a folded pink receipt. I didn’t open it right away. I looked at the TV, at Sophia’s back, at Teresa’s closed eyes. The cartoon music was loud enough to cover any small sound.
I unzipped the inner pocket. The first thing I pulled out was a bank receipt from Memo Savings, printed on thin thermal paper. It was a transfer confirmation dated three weeks ago. Twenty-four hundred dollars. From our joint savings to an account ending in 4812. Diego’s initials were on the customer line. Under it was another receipt, same date, forty-one hundred dollars. I felt my throat go tight. I held them flat in my palm so the light from the window hit them.
Under the receipts was a letter from the county treasurer. PROPERTY TAX DELINQUENCY NOTICE. Teresa Alvarez, the address I recognized as her house on Maple County Road. Amount due: $3,872.14. Final notice before lien. The date stamped was two weeks before the first transfer. There was a handwritten note in the margin in Teresa’s handwriting: Diego pagará — Diego will pay.
I didn’t realize I’d stopped breathing until I had to exhale. I slipped my phone from my back pocket with my other hand and took a photo of each paper on the sofa cushion, keeping my thumb out of the frame. The shutter clicked and I winced and looked at Teresa. She didn’t move.
At the bottom of the purse was a folded photo, the kind printed at the drugstore, and a stapled invoice. The photo showed Teresa’s kitchen. I’d been there enough times to know the yellow linoleum and the old white cabinets. But in the photo the cabinets were new, a light gray, with quartz counters and a new sink. The invoice was from K&B Kitchen Remodel, dated the same week as the larger transfer. Total: $4,100. Paid in full. Memo line handwritten: Cash — transfer.
It lined up so cleanly it made my stomach turn. The empty savings hadn’t been a mistake or a fee. It had been her taxes and her kitchen. And Diego had moved it.
A floorboard creaked in the hallway. It wasn’t Teresa waking, it was Sophia turning around on the rug.
“Mommy, what are you doing?” she whispered.
I slid the invoice and the photo back where they’d been, receipts on top, letter folded exactly as I’d found it. My fingers were clumsy but I made myself refold the edges.
“Just looking for a tissue, baby,” I said quietly. “Watch your show.”
She turned back, her doll’s blonde head bobbing as she resettled against her brother. He was leaning into her side, his navy t-shirt riding up his back.
Teresa made a small sound in her sleep, a sigh, and shifted. Her hand twitched toward where her purse had been. I zipped the inner pocket, latched the clasp, and eased the purse back to its spot by her feet, exactly as it had been slumped before. I kept my phone tight in my hand, screen down, photos already saved.
She inhaled sharper then, and her eyes fluttered. I stepped back to the kitchen counter and picked up the glass I’d pretended to want and filled it with water. The tap was loud.
Teresa blinked open, looked at the TV, then at me.
“Veronica,” she said, her voice thick from the nap. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Just for a little while,” I said. My voice sounded normal. I didn’t know how. “The kids are watching cartoons.”
She sat up slowly and reached for her purse, patting it once to check it was there. She didn’t open it. She just pulled it closer to her lap like she always did, her pearl bracelet catching the daylight.
May you like
I took a drink of water and felt it cold in my throat. In my pocket, my phone buzzed once, the photos syncing. I had the reference numbers from the bank and now I had the house, the notice, the kitchen. I had the why.
I didn’t say anything. I just stood there with the glass in both hands and watched her smooth her burgundy dress and look toward Sophia and her doll, and I knew I couldn’t tell Diego yet. Not until someone outside this house had seen what I’d just seen.
