Chapter 3: The Woman Who Smiled in Public
Tasha entered the house carrying two shopping bags.
Behind her was a woman I recognized immediately.
Her name was Denise Parker, Tasha's closest friend.
She had attended our wedding, helped organize Imani's birthday party, and often called Tasha during the day.
"Marcus!"" Denise said brightly.
"I didn't know you were home.""
I looked at the food container in Imani's hands.
Then at Tasha.
"Apparently, there's a lot I don't know.""
Tasha followed my gaze.
Her expression changed for half a second.
Then she smiled.
"Imani, sweetheart, go upstairs.""
My daughter didn't move.
"Now, please.""
I stepped forward.
"She can stay.""
Tasha's smile disappeared.
"Marcus, we have company.""
"I can see that.""
Denise looked between us.
"Is everything okay?""
"Everything's fine," Tasha answered quickly.
Then she turned toward Imani.
"Put that container away. You know you're not supposed to eat between meals.""
I held out my hand.
"Give it to me, sweetheart.""
Imani hesitated.
"It's okay," I told her.
She placed the container in my palm.
I opened it.
Two pieces of bread. A little peanut butter.
Nothing else.
I looked at Tasha.
"Why is my daughter hiding food in her bedroom?""
Tasha laughed.
"She's not hiding food. She's being dramatic.""
"Then why is she carrying it around like someone might take it?""
"Marcus, she's developed a bad habit. I've been trying to correct it.""
Denise shifted uncomfortably.
"Maybe we should talk about this another time.""
"No," I said.
"I think we should talk about it now.""
Tasha's face tightened.
"You are making me look like a terrible person.""
I looked at her.
"Did you write the note telling her to lie to me?""
Silence.
Denise looked at Tasha.
"What note?""
Tasha took a breath.
"I don't know what you're talking about.""
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded paper I'd found beside the brown bag.
I placed it on the counter.
Tasha glanced at it.
For a moment, she didn't speak.
Then she said, "I was trying to keep things organized.""
"By telling her to lie?""
"I didn't mean it that way.""
"Then what did you mean?""
She turned toward Denise.
"Can you believe this? I've spent three years helping raise these children, and now I'm being treated like a criminal because I have rules.""
Denise looked down at the note.
Her expression shifted.
"Tasha, did you really write this?""
"Don't start.""
"I'm asking you a question.""
Tasha snatched the note from the counter.
"Marcus doesn't understand how difficult Imani can be.""
I looked at my daughter.
She was standing near the staircase, her fingers wrapped around the railing.
"Imani, sweetheart, you can go sit with Grandma.""
She nodded and disappeared upstairs.
I waited until she was gone.
Then I faced Tasha.
"I want to know why Caleb says you've been taking food from her lunchbox.""
Tasha rolled her eyes.
"Because she doesn't need all that food.""
"Who decides that?""
"I do. I'm the one at home managing things.""
"You're not at home managing things. You work part-time, and my mother has been helping with the children.""
"Exactly. So now your mother gets to decide how I raise them?""
"No. But I do get to decide that my daughter shouldn't be going hungry.""
Tasha threw her hands up.
"This is ridiculous. She's perfectly healthy.""
"Have you taken her to a doctor?""
"I don't need a doctor to tell me she's eating too much.""
The words hung in the room.
Denise stared at her.
"Tasha...""
"What?""
"That's not what you should be saying.""
Tasha turned sharply.
"Whose side are you on?""
Denise didn't answer.
I took out my phone.
"I've arranged for both children to see their pediatrician tomorrow.""
Tasha laughed.
"You're overreacting.""
"Maybe. But I'm going anyway.""
"Marcus, you're letting a child manipulate you.""
I felt my voice become quieter.
"Be very careful about calling my daughter a manipulator.""
Tasha stared at me.
Then she walked out of the kitchen.
Denise remained behind.
She looked toward the staircase.
"Marcus, can I tell you something?""
I nodded.
She lowered her voice.
"I've seen Tasha do something similar before.""
My heart began beating faster.
"What?""
Denise hesitated.
"At a family barbecue last summer. Imani asked for another hot dog. Tasha told her she'd already eaten enough and made her sit inside.""
I remembered that barbecue.
I'd been helping my brother-in-law repair his truck.
When I'd returned, Imani had been sitting on the porch.
I'd assumed she was tired.
"Why didn't you say anything?""
Denise looked ashamed.
"I thought it was just a parenting disagreement.""
"Did you see anything else?""
She glanced toward the hallway.
"Not exactly. But Tasha sometimes talks about Imani as if she's competing with her.""
"What do you mean?""
Denise sighed.
"She says you treat Imani like she's still a baby. She says everything in the house revolves around Danielle's memory.""
I looked at her.
"Danielle has been dead for six years.""
"I know.""
"Imani is her daughter.""
"I know, Marcus.""
Denise rubbed her forehead.
"Look, I don't want to make things worse. But I think you should check the old family tablet.""
"What tablet?""
"The one you used to leave in the kitchen.""
I remembered it.
An older tablet connected to our family account. The children used it for educational games and video calls with their grandmother.
"It's in the cabinet," I said.
Denise nodded.
"Then check it.""
Before I could ask anything else, Tasha returned.
"Denise, we're leaving.""
Denise picked up her purse.
"Actually, I think I'll stay a little longer.""
Tasha glared at her.
"Why?""
"Because Marcus deserves to know what's happening.""
For a moment, I thought Tasha might shout.
Instead, she gave a small, humorless laugh.
"Fine. Do whatever you want.""
She grabbed her keys and headed upstairs.
Denise watched her go.
Then she looked at me.
"I'm sorry.""
I didn't know what to say.
After she left, I searched the kitchen cabinet.
The tablet was still there, covered in a thin layer of dust.
I charged it and opened the family account.
There were dozens of photographs, school documents, and saved videos.
Most were ordinary.
Caleb playing soccer.
Imani drawing pictures.
The children making pancakes with their grandmother.
Then I found a folder labeled FAMILY.
Inside were several short video recordings.
The first showed Tasha sitting at the kitchen table, speaking to someone on the phone.
I pressed play.
Her voice filled the room.
"Honestly, Denise, I didn't sign up to spend every evening dealing with Danielle's little princess.""
I stopped breathing.
The recording continued.
"Marcus acts like Imani is made of glass. If she cries, he drops everything. If Caleb cries, he gets over it. It's exhausting.""
I stared at the screen.
Another recording began automatically.
This one showed the kitchen.
Imani was standing near the refrigerator.
Tasha entered the frame holding a lunchbox.
"Why did you eat the second sandwich?"" Tasha asked.
Imani answered quietly.
"I was still hungry.""
"You were supposed to save it.""
"But Caleb gave me his.""
"Then you should have told him no.""
Imani lowered her head.
Tasha opened the refrigerator and removed a container.
"You're not having anything else tonight.""
The recording ended.
My hands were shaking.
I opened another file.
Then another.
There were recordings from different days.
Some showed Imani asking for food.
Others showed her being told to wait until I got home.
One showed Caleb quietly placing crackers on his sister's bed.
Tasha discovered them minutes later.
"Who gave you these?"" she demanded.
Caleb whispered, "I found them.""
"Don't lie to me.""
"I didn't.""
Tasha took the crackers.
"If you keep doing this, you'll both end up with no snacks at all.""
I stopped the video.
I couldn't watch another second.
Then I noticed something strange.
The recordings had been saved under a folder called SCHOOL PROJECT.
I checked the date of the oldest file.
It was almost seven months old.
Seven months.
My daughter had been asking for food, my son had been hiding snacks for her, and I had been thanking my wife for keeping the household organized.
I leaned back in my chair.
Then a new notification appeared on the tablet.
It was a message from an unfamiliar account.
The message had been sent that afternoon.
*Marcus, if you're finally looking at these recordings, there's something else you need to know.*
I read it twice.
The sender's profile picture was blank.
The message continued.
*Tasha isn't the only person who knows what's happening to your children.*
My throat went dry.
I tapped the account.
No name.
No photograph.
Just one more message.
*Check the school counselor's emails. Look for the appointment that was canceled three times.*
I stared at the screen.
An appointment?
I opened the family email account and searched the counselor's name.
Several messages appeared.
The first was dated five months earlier.
The subject line read:
*Concern Regarding Imani Reed — Request for Parent Meeting.*
I opened it.
The counselor had requested a meeting to discuss changes in Imani's behavior.
There were three separate appointment dates.
All three had been canceled.
The reason listed in the email replies was the same:
*Mother has confirmed that the child is doing well and no meeting is necessary.*
But there was something else.
The final email contained an attachment.
I opened it.
It was a scanned document with Imani's name at the top.
A school staff member had recorded a conversation with my daughter after she asked to speak privately.
The final line read:
*Student stated she was afraid to go home because she had been told that telling her father the truth would cause the family to fall apart.*
I sat frozen.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
"Marcus.""
I turned.
Tasha stood at the kitchen entrance.
She was looking directly at the tablet.
Her face had gone pale.
"Where did you get that?""
I slowly closed the email.
"From the school.""
She took one step toward me.
"Give me the tablet.""
"No.""
"Marcus, give it to me.""
I stood up.
"Why did you cancel three meetings with my daughter's school counselor?""
Her lips parted.
For the first time since I'd known her, Tasha had no immediate answer.
Then she said something I never expected.
"Because I knew exactly what that woman was trying to do.""
"What?""
Tasha looked toward the staircase.
Then she leaned closer and whispered:
"She was trying to convince Imani that she could tell you about Danielle.""
I stared at my wife.
"What does Danielle have to do with any of this?""
Tasha's eyes filled with tears.
But her next words weren't an apology.
May you like
"They found out what happened to your first wife.""
And suddenly, I realized the food wasn't the only secret inside my house.
