Chapter 2
Daniel came home at ten twelve carrying a gift bag from the pharmacy.
The price sticker was still attached.
“I know I’m late.”
He set the bag on the kitchen counter. Pink tissue paper covered a children’s watercolor set Sophie had wanted two years ago.
“Where is she?”
“Asleep.”
“You let her go to bed without seeing me?”
I looked at him.
“She waited four hours.”
“I told you I was coming.”
“And then you didn’t.”
Daniel glanced into the dining room. The decorations were gone. His clean plate remained on the table beside a collapsed balloon.
“You could’ve kept the party going.”
“For three more hours?”
“It was an important night for Milo.”
“It was Sophie’s birthday.”
“I know whose birthday it was, Claire.”
His voice rose, then immediately dropped. He did not want to sound like the bad person in this conversation.
“One of the parents from the party messaged Rachel,” he said. “Apparently you told everyone where I was.”
“They asked.”
“You embarrassed her.”
“I answered honestly.”
“Rachel already worries that people think she depends on me too much.”
“She does depend on you too much.”
His jaw tightened.
“She lost her husband.”
“And Sophie keeps losing her father.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”
Daniel pushed the gift bag away.
“You’re turning one missed birthday into something bigger.”
I opened the calendar on my phone.
Gray dots covered the past three years.
“What is that?”
“The times you promised to be somewhere and didn’t come.”
He gave a tired laugh.
“You made a list?”
“I started it because you kept telling me I remembered things incorrectly.”
I selected the first visible mark.
“Sophie’s dental surgery. You left because Rachel’s car wouldn’t start.”
“She needed to pick up Milo.”
“Number sixteen. Our anniversary dinner. Rachel heard a noise outside.”
“She thought someone was trying to get into the house.”
“It was a raccoon.”
“I didn’t know that when she called.”
I moved to the next mark.
“Number twenty-seven. Sophie’s first art show.”
“Milo had a fever.”
“He had a temperature of ninety-nine degrees.”
“Claire, I can explain every one of these.”
“I know.”
He looked almost relieved.
Then I said, “You remember why you didn’t come. Sophie remembers that you didn’t.”
A floorboard creaked behind us.
Sophie stood halfway down the stairs in her pajamas. She held a small box against her chest.
“Go back to bed, sweetheart,” Daniel said. “We’ll celebrate tomorrow.”
She came down anyway.
Daniel lifted the gift bag.
“I got you something.”
Sophie did not look inside.
Instead, she put the box on the table and removed a stack of folded cards.
The earliest ones were written in large, uneven letters.
Next time, please come.
Another said:
I saved you a seat.
The handwriting became neater as the cards continued. The messages became shorter.
Mom said you tried.
Maybe next time.
It was okay without you.
Daniel picked up the last card.
There were only four words on it.
You don’t have to come.
“What are these?” he asked.
“The first forty-eight times.”
His face changed.
“You counted too?”
“Mom didn’t count them for me.”
Daniel looked at me, but there was nothing he could blame me for.
He reached toward Sophie.
She stepped back.
“I’m sorry about tonight,” he said. “But you understand why Milo needed me, don’t you?”
Her fingers curled around the sleeve of her pajamas.
Daniel continued, mistaking her silence for permission.
“You still have me. Milo’s dad is gone.”
“Then why does he get mine?”
Daniel went still.
Sophie turned toward the stairs.
On the counter lay the family drawing she had planned to give him for her birthday. The front showed the three of us holding hands.
She flipped it over.
A newer drawing covered the back.
Sophie stood between me and my father, George. Beside us was an empty chair.
Daniel was not in the picture.
Next Friday was the father-daughter dance at Sophie’s school. He had promised to take her months ago.
Daniel saw the drawing and seemed to panic.
“I’ll be at the dance.”
Sophie stopped on the first step.
“I promise,” he said. “Nothing will keep me away.”
She looked at him over her shoulder.
“Does Aunt Rachel know you promised me?”
“That has nothing to do with Rachel.”
Sophie climbed another step.
“It always does.”