Chapter 3
I was the last one to reach Miller's Diner.
Luke had left the stadium with Emma and Vanessa while I took down the banner and packed my lenses.
By the time I carried everything through the diner's glass doors, the Friday dinner rush had filled most of the red vinyl booths.
I found them in the back corner.
It was our usual booth.
We had eaten there after home games for years.
Emma sat against the wall.
Vanessa was beside her, in the seat where I normally sat.
Luke was across from Emma.
The only empty space was beside Luke, near the aisle.
Emma saw me first.
"Oh." She glanced at Vanessa. "Joy usually sits here."
Vanessa reached for the purse beside her. "I can move."
She had shifted halfway out of the booth when Luke tapped the table.
"Everybody's already settled," he said. "Joy can sit here."
He patted the cushion beside him without looking up from the menu.
Vanessa waited.
I could have asked her to move.
Emma had already spoken.
Vanessa had offered.
Instead, I put my camera bag on the floor and slid into the empty seat.
Vanessa set her purse back down.
A waitress came over with four water glasses balanced against one arm.
She noticed Emma's jersey, then the blue field passes still hanging around Luke's and Vanessa's necks.
"Senior Night?" she asked.
Emma nodded.
The waitress smiled at Luke and Vanessa. "Mom and Dad must be proud."
"Very," Luke said.
He closed his menu and handed it to her.
The waitress looked down at my camera bag.
"And you got stuck taking all the pictures?"
"Something like that."
"What can I get everybody to drink?"
I swallowed it instead of using it.
The conversation moved on before anyone had to explain who I was.
Vanessa ordered iced tea.
Luke asked for coffee.
Emma wanted a chocolate shake until I reminded her she still had to play the second half of the game after dinner.
She made a face at me.
"Fine. Lemonade."
The waitress wrote it down and left.
Vanessa rested her arms on the table. "Your dad used to give you milk in the middle of the night because it was the only thing that would get you back to sleep."
Emma looked at Luke. "You did?"
"For about four months," Luke said. "Your mother would walk you around the apartment until you stopped crying, and then I'd warm the bottle."
"You always put too much cereal in it," Vanessa said.
"You always said it was too much."
My shoulders had crept upward; I let them drop.
"Because it was."
Luke laughed.
Emma did too. "Was I a terrible baby?"
"You were loud," Vanessa said. "Tiny, but loud. You hated your crib. You'd sleep through anything if somebody held you, but the second we put you down, you'd start screaming."
"I still hate sleeping alone."
Emma said it lightly, but then she looked at me.
When she was nine, she had gone through six months of waking from nightmares.
I used to sit on the floor beside her bed until she fell asleep.
On the worst nights, I slept there with a pillow against the wall.
"You used to make me leave the Weather Channel on," I said.
Emma smiled. "Because the guy's voice was boring."
"You said it made you feel safe."
Vanessa's smile stayed in place, but her fingers tightened around her straw wrapper.
"What was she scared of?" she asked.
"Storms at first," I said. "Then everything."
"I wasn't scared of everything."
I curled my fingers into my palm.
"You made me check behind the shower curtain."
"That could've been anybody."
"In our second-floor bathroom?"
A second passed before I loosened them again.
Emma laughed.
Luke shook his head.
For a minute, all four of us were part of the same conversation.
Then Vanessa told another story from Emma's infancy, and the table divided itself again.
Their first five years.
My next twelve.
Emma sat between the two versions of her childhood, listening to both.
After the plates were cleared, the waitress returned carrying a tall sundae glass.
Brownie pieces and whipped cream rose above the rim.
A tan sauce had been drizzled across the top.
Vanessa sat up.
"I ordered a surprise when I made the reservation."
The waitress placed it in front of Emma.
"One peanut butter brownie sundae for the senior."
Emma's hand stopped inches from the spoon.
Her eyes came straight to me.
"Mom?"
"Don't touch it," I said.
Luke was already reaching for Emma's backpack.
He pulled the EpiPen case from the front pocket and set it on the table.
"She didn't eat any," he said to Emma. "You're okay."
"I know." Emma's breathing had quickened. "I know."
I moved out of the booth and crouched beside her.
"Did you touch the spoon?"
She shook her head.
"The glass?"
"No."
"You're okay. Take a breath."
I watched without stepping in.
The waitress looked horrified. "I'm so sorry. Nobody told me about an allergy."
"She has a severe peanut allergy," Luke said. "Please take it away."
The waitress lifted the sundae from the table without letting it pass near Emma.
"I'll get my manager."
"You don't have to bring another dessert," I said. "Just clean the table, please."
Emma took one breath, then another.
I stayed beside her until her shoulders lowered.
Luke kept the EpiPen on the table.
Vanessa stared at the wet circle the sundae glass had left behind.
"I thought it was caramel," she said.
Nobody answered.
She looked at Emma. "You were five the last time I ordered dessert for you."
Emma picked at the edge of her napkin.
"I didn't have the allergy until I was eight."
Vanessa nodded once.
"Right," she said. "I didn't know."
Emma reached over and touched her wrist.
"I'm okay."
"I know." Vanessa turned her hand over and held Emma's fingers. "I should've asked."
The manager came to apologize.
Luke handled the conversation while I wiped the table in front of Emma with a clean cloth the waitress brought.
No one ordered another dessert.
When the check came, Luke paid.
Emma went outside to warm up before they returned to the stadium, and Luke stopped near the register to speak to one of the assistant coaches.
I went to the restroom.
Vanessa came in while I was washing my hands.
She stood near the door instead of going to a stall.
"I thought some of it would come back," she said.
I looked at her in the mirror. "Some of what?"
"Being her mother."
The faucet ran between us.
"I thought I'd see her, and I'd know what she needed. The way I used to."
"She isn't five anymore."
"I noticed."
I listened for what did not follow.
I turned off the water.
Vanessa pulled a paper towel from the dispenser but didn't use it.
"When she got scared, she looked straight past me."
"She looked at the person who has handled it before."
"I know." Vanessa stared at the paper towel in her hands. "That's what makes this so hard."
I dried my hands.
"You have time to learn who she is now."
"How?" she asked. "Every time she needs something, you already know the answer."
"That isn't something I did to you."
I counted one breath before speaking.
"I didn't say it was."
"You took my field pass."
"Luke told me you offered."
I let the question remain unanswered for a moment.
"And when you found out I hadn't?"
Vanessa didn't answer.
I dropped my paper towel into the trash.
"You don't have to erase me to get to know her."
Vanessa looked down.
"Luke thinks you'll understand."
"Luke says that when he wants me to pay for a decision he made."
I walked past her and left the restroom.
Outside, Emma was already climbing into the back seat of Luke's truck.
Vanessa stood beside the passenger door.
Luke opened it for her.
He saw me through the diner window and lifted one hand.
"We'll see you back at the field," he called.
Vanessa got into the passenger seat.
Luke closed the door behind her and walked around to the driver's side.
I unlocked my SUV.
Emma had ridden home with me after every game since elementary school.
She usually kicked off her cleats in the passenger seat, stole my water, and replayed every mistake she thought she had made.
That night, Luke drove away with Emma and Vanessa.
I carried the banner back to my car alone.
At the first traffic light, Luke turned left.
Vanessa's apartment was in the other direction.
His taillights disappeared toward our neighborhood while I stood with Emma's banner pressed against my coat.