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Spending time with Stevie is both a comfort and a source of pain for them.
Three months ago, during one of our visits to Boston, I persuaded them to start attending a support group for grieving parents.
It’s helped them enough that they were finally able to take a vacation for the first time since Layna’s death. They are currently relaxing on a beach in Maui.
They sent Stevie a postcard with a promise to bring her back something she could treasure from the island.
“I’ll ask them when I see them.” Stevie sighs. “I’m full, but I left room for dessert.”
Dessert isn’t a regular occurrence in our home.
If Stevie is craving something sweet after dinner, I’ll cut up some fruit for her.
Before I do that, I want to delve into what she’s been feeling about my breakup with Astrid.
“We can talk about dessert in a bit.” I rest my linen napkin on the table next to my empty plate. “Let’s talk about you.”
“Me?” Her entire face brightens with a broad smile. “Do you want to talk about my new dress? Auntie Sinclair bought it for me on our way home from The Met.”
I glance at the pink and white polka dot dress she’s wearing.
My sister gave me a heads up that she’d splurged on a new outfit for my daughter. It’s something Sinclair does from time to time. I don’t mind.
I’m mindful of how many gifts my daughter receives.
I try to balance the receiving with giving. We’ll go through her closest this weekend to pick out anything that doesn’t fit her so we can donate it.
We’ll also go over Stevie’s chore list so I can check that she’s kept up with her tasks.
She understands the importance of lending a hand and the value of hard work.
“It’s a beautiful dress,” I say for the second time.
I told her the same thing when she made a grand entrance on the staircase just after dinner arrived at our door.
She had placed a plastic tiara on Budley’s head and carried him down in her arms as Sully trailed behind her. The cat can’t seem to tame her jealously over Stevie’s extensive collection of stuffed animals.
My daughter rests an elbow on the table. “We should talk about Astrid.”
I straighten my back in the chair I’m sitting in. “We should.”
I know that I pulled the rug out from under Stevie when I abruptly ended my relationship with Astrid, but I did what I needed to.
I couldn’t let Astrid consider giving up her dream for us, and I couldn’t ask my daughter to give up her life here for the unknown.
“Do you love her, Dad?” she asks quietly.
That feels like a punch to the gut because I wasn’t expecting it. I had no idea that Stevie would go there, but I expect honesty from her, so I need to live up to that on my end too.
“I do,” I admit keeping my gaze locked on her face.
“I think I do too.” She looks down at her lap. “I think we were becoming best friends.”
My heart breaks at her admission. I knew they were forming an attachment, but I hadn’t understood its depth.
“I’m sure Astrid felt the same way,” I say.
Stevie looks at my face, studying me carefully. “Who broke up with who? Did she dump you?”
I smile. “No, she didn’t dump me.”
Her eyes narrow. “So you dumped her?”
That’s not how I’d describe it, but essentially that’s what I did, so I own it. “I ended the relationship, Stevie. Astrid has to move across the country to record her songs, and then she’ll be touring for the foreseeable future. That doesn’t fit into our lives.”
“Says who?” she asks defiantly. “Who says it doesn’t fit our lives?”
I reach out a hand to offer her comfort, but she retreats in her chair far enough that I can’t touch her. “Stevie, our family is here. You have school. I have my job.”
Tears well in her big blue eyes. “Daddy, we love her. We can go wherever she goes.”
“It’s not that easy,” I counter.
“It is,” she insists with her hands clasped together in her lap. “I can do school remotely, and you can work from your computer. Mrs. Hosek said she would help with that. She said she could do more if we wanted to go on tour with Astrid.”
Mrs. Hosek was holding back when we spoke earlier.
Stevie slides to her feet to stand next to me. “When we love someone, we need to be with them because we might not always have that chance.”
A tear falls down my cheek as I listen to my little girl.
“It would be an adventure for us.” She giggles through a sob. “There is only one Astrid in this whole wide world, and we can’t let her get away. You want to marry her, right?”
The idea has crossed my mind more times than I’ll admit, but I can’t tell my daughter that. I don’t know how Astrid feels about me or how receptive she’d be to the idea of the two of us following her on tour.
