Chapter 2
I put my phone in my bag and started the car.
Lucy hadn’t said a word.
She sat quietly in her car seat, hugging her stuffed bunny, her pale blue skirt spread across her lap. She had picked out that dress herself at the mall. At checkout, she had stood on her tiptoes and asked the cashier, “If I wear this to my birthday dinner, will Daddy even recognize me?”
The cashier had smiled. “He’ll think you look just like a princess.”
I had smiled, too.
Now, the only sound in the car was the faint rattle of plastic takeout containers. The mac and cheese, leftover chicken tenders, and white box holding her birthday cake were all on the passenger seat.
Then Lucy spoke.
“Mommy, did Daddy forget which restaurant we were at?”
I stopped at a red light, my hands gripping the steering wheel.
“He didn’t forget.”
“Then why didn’t he come?”
She asked so seriously. She wasn’t crying or throwing a tantrum.
But for a moment, I didn’t know how to answer.
I couldn’t tell her that Mark had counted on her waiting. That he knew I would make excuses for him. That “Ethan needs me” was all it took for her to put her own birthday on hold.
The light turned green.
I pulled forward, keeping my voice as steady as I could.
“Because Daddy didn’t keep his promise to you.”
Lucy looked down and stroked one of her bunny’s ears.
“Is Ethan’s game more important than my birthday?”
“No,” I said immediately. “You and Ethan are both important.”
“Then why did Daddy pick Ethan?”
The car fell silent.
I looked at her in the rearview mirror.
At five, she didn’t understand the excuses adults made or the guilt behind them. All she knew was that her father had promised to sit beside her, then gone to cut someone else’s cake.
“Daddy is the one who let you down,” I said. “It’s not because you aren’t good enough. And Ethan didn’t do anything wrong.”
Lucy nodded, as if she were trying hard to remember every word.
It was late by the time we got home. The streamers I had hung that afternoon were still up in the living room. On the coffee table sat a paper crown Lucy had saved for Mark and a pink balloon that said “Birthday Girl.”
She stopped in the entryway and stared at the crown for a few seconds.
“Mommy, are we still going to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ when Daddy gets home?”
I put the takeout containers in the refrigerator and closed the door.
“Not tonight.”
“What about tomorrow?”
I turned around. A little hope had crept back into her eyes.
It hurt to see that hope. But I wasn’t going to make another promise on Mark’s behalf.
“We’ll let Daddy answer that himself.”
Lucy didn’t ask again.
She sat down on the rug with her birthday drawing and opened her box of colored pencils. In the picture were me, Lucy, a big cake, and Mark. He stood beside her, holding a blue balloon.
She searched through the box and pulled out a pink eraser.
I walked over and crouched in front of her.
“Lucy, what are you doing?”
She didn’t look up. She gently rubbed the eraser over Mark’s shoes in the picture.
“If I erase Daddy, he won’t be late next time.”
My breath caught.
I reached out and gently closed my hand around hers.
“Daddy wasn’t late because you drew him in the picture. Or because you saved him a place.”
Lucy looked up at me, her eyes red.
“But I don’t want to wait anymore.”
I pulled her into my arms and patted her back.
“Okay. From now on, if you don’t want to wait, we won’t.”
She rested her head against my shoulder and whispered, “Okay.”
The front door lock clicked.
I looked up toward the entryway.
Mark was home.