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I don’t agree with him. She’s not four; she’s nine. And we’ve already lost so much. I just can’t remember what exactly we’ve lost. I blink at David, and I still can’t see his face clearly. He has stubble on his chin, but the sky blue of his eyes are muddled so that I can’t tell if he’s looking at me or not.
“I won’t be long,” he says. I finally agree—David can persuade me to do anything. He plants a kiss on my cheek.
“Don’t,” I say, suddenly terrified. “You can’t leave.”
“I’ll be ten minutes.”
“Please, David, don’t go.” My stomach has turned to ice and I can’t breathe. The edges of my vision blur a little and everything feels shaky. “Just stay here with us.”
He kisses me one more time. “Be right back, honey.”
I grab onto him, but my hands go through him. I can’t stop him from leaving.
“David?” I ask, but he doesn’t turn around at the door. A moment later, the front door slams and he gets into his car. The dread in my stomach dissipates a little and I can’t remember why I was so upset.
Kylie comes into my room and sits on the bed, watching me dry my hair. Her pigtails are a mess, getting more and more ragged. I want to redo them before we go, but I need to finish my own hair and makeup first.
She starts jumping on the bed and I want to tell her she’s getting too big to do that. But David told me she’s four, so she must be.
Everything feels wrong.
It’s her big day, I tell myself.
Ten minutes turn into twenty, and I’m starting to worry we’ll be late.
“Where’s Daddy?” Kylie asks.
“Let’s make some toast,” I say. She needs to eat before we leave. “He’ll be here soon and then we can go right away.”
“I want cereal,” Kylie says with a pout like a toddler. It looks out of place on a girl who’s excited about growing up.
“We’ll have cereal when we get home. How about that?”
She starts to cry. “I want cereal!” she wails.
My stomach twists and turns and I feel sick. The air around me grows colder and colder. I shiver. When I glance at the window, ice forms on the glass.
“Honey,” I say, turning my attention back to Kylie. “We don’t have milk and we’re going to be late. As soon as Daddy gets here, we’re leaving so you don’t miss your show.”
Kylie keeps crying. I carry her to the kitchen—she’s small in my arms too, when she was just under my chin a moment ago—and let her sit at the table. The bowl with dried cereal, ready for milk, sits on the table and that only makes Kylie cry more. She kicks her legs and it’s turning into a temper tantrum.
The sun is bright through the kitchen window but the counters are covered in frost.
I put bread in the toaster, ignoring her, and put on the Nespresso machine for a cup of coffee. I desperately need caffeine. I desperately need…I don’t know what I need. I ache for something. My stomach rolls and I can’t breathe. I clutch my throat, panicking.
The sound of a car in the driveway makes me sag with relief. He’s back.
“Daddy’s back. Run to the door to say hello,” I say to Kylie.
She swallows her tears and her eyes sparkle despite her wet cheeks. She runs to the door.
“Is your mommy home?” a deep voice says.
It’s not David. I want to throw up.
I walk to the door, my heart in my throat. A police officer in uniform looks at me, offering a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. My blood runs cold and the happiness all around me starts to crumble.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. I won’t hear it. But my eyes well with tears and my chest is tight. “He just got milk. He said he would be right back.”
