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ELLA
Ten years ago…
“Ella!” Dad calls.
I jump to my feet at the sound of his voice. He’s been away for two long weeks. He’s my favorite person, and I hate that he’s away so often. I sprint toward the front door and rush into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
He hugs me tightly. Then I hear a soft sigh, warning me he’s not back for long. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I can only drop in because I’ve got to go on another trip right away.”
My brow furrows, as he’s always home for my birthday. “But—”
“I know it’s your birthday, sweetie. I just can’t put this trip off. I’m so sorry.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, wrapped gift. “Happy Birthday for tomorrow.”
I take it, tears welling in my eyes, because I don’t want him to go. He’s been here for all my birthdays for eleven years. I know his work is dangerous and has something to do with criminals, which angers me. He does it for the money to keep Mom happy. “Are you sure you have to go?”
He kisses my cheek and wipes away a stray tear. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be back before you know it.” There’s an odd look in his eyes, one that tells me he’s not sure he believes he will be back.
“Is there something wrong?” I ask.
He shakes his head, forcing a smile. “Of course not. Why would anything be wrong?”
“The people you work for, I know—”
“Quiet, Ella,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You don’t know anything, sweetheart.” He hugs me again, even more tightly. “Now, be a good girl for your mom, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Mom doesn’t get me the way Dad does. We get on well enough, but I hate that she makes him work for bad people who force him to travel a lot because she wants to live in a fancy apartment and buy designer clothes.
He glances at the present in my hand. “No opening that until tomorrow, got it?”
I smile and nod. “Got it.”
“Good girl,” he says, patting me on the head. “I’ll speak to you in the morning.”
He turns and walks out of the apartment, leaving me sad.
I can’t help but feel angry at Mom for forcing him to work so hard so that she can spend all his money. She doesn’t work. All she does is spend.
The door to her bedroom opens, and her brow furrows. “Did I hear your dad?”
I swallow hard. “Yes, he popped in to give me my gift for tomorrow.” I hold it up. “He won’t be here for my birthday.”
Her brow furrows. “What?”
I shrug. “That’s what Dad said.”
She looks worried as she shakes her head. “Come on, do you want pancakes for breakfast?”
“Sure!” I say, skipping into the kitchen as I love pancakes with syrup.
Mom follows and starts making the batter. I can tell she’s preoccupied, though, making me anxious. I don’t like it when she’s like this. It feels like she’s distant and not really here.
Dad’s never like that.
Once she’s finished making breakfast, we sit down at the small table in the kitchen to eat. While we eat the pancakes, she keeps checking her phone, a frown on her face.
“Is something wrong, Mom?” I ask, my heart beating faster in my chest, as I don’t think she expected Dad to leave.
