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Thunking my head against the door, I growl, “Pull yourself together, Mia. You have a responsibility to your child and to being as good a mom as you can be. You can’t be waffling about and indecisive.”
But I do need more time to think, and unfortunately, I’m not sure I’m going to get that time until after Daddy arrives.
Sighing heavily, I head to my bathroom to check my reflection in the mirror. Surprisingly, I don’t look too terrible. My hair’s a little mussed but easy to comb back into place. And my lips are swollen from so much kissing.
I straighten my dress, smoothing the velvety fabric down over my legs, then I meet my eyes in the mirror. They’re almost feverish in their excitement, and I try to calm my racing heart with slow, steadying breaths.
Only after my heartbeat slows do I head back out to the hall.
As I reach the landing overlooking the living room, I pause. Zach’s daughter idles by the stairs, phone in hand, her lips twisted in a look of indecision as she stares down at the screen.
“Hey, Lindsey,” I say, approaching her carefully because I don’t want to interrupt something if she’s on the phone.
“Oh, hey, Mia,” she says, sliding the device into the pocket of her long-sleeve black-and-red-plaid dress.
“Were you planning on joining the party?”
“I, uh, yeah. I mean, I was trying to get ahold of my mom before I came down, but she’s probably out shopping or something,” she says, casually waving away her mom’s lack of availability.
But I know that rounded look to her shoulders, the way her chin quivers ever so slightly. She wishes her mom might have cared enough to answer the phone regardless of her thrilling Paris activities and new, exciting company.
My heart goes out to Lindsey. I can’t imagine the pain of coming in second to a life of frivolous play. At least my sense of abandonment stems from a father who works too many hours in his drive toward success. While still not the priority in his life, at least I know that part of his motivation is taking care of me.
I’m also perfectly familiar with the typical evasive maneuvers adults tend to perform to avoid uncomfortable conversations around an absentee parent and the pity it evokes. I’m not about to do that to Lindsey. She needs a friend right now, not a pep talk or someone to rationalize why her mom behaves the way she does.
“I’m sorry you won’t get to spend Christmas with your mom,” I say, leaning against the railing to look down on the party with Lindsey.
“Thanks,” she says, fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if, just once,theycalled to say they miss us?” I add, glancing at her from the corner of my eye.
“Right?” she gushes, her exasperation overwhelming her sense of teenage blasé.
I’d like to say it gets easier over time, but it doesn’t. As I think about the text Daddy left me in regard to the Christmas party and his delay, it might be easy for someone to assume I’m his assistant rather than his only daughter whom he loves dearly.
I’ve learned to understand it over the years. His lack of affectionate words or ability to spend quality time doesn’t mean he loves me any less. He just doesn’t have the capacity to show it. But nothing I say can reconcile Lindsey’s sense of rejection she feels now. Only she can do that.
Then she has to discover for herself how to make it right.
I do by meeting my father on his terms, going to the parties I know he’ll attend—unless a blizzard snows him out. But that doesn’t stop my occasionally juvenile attempts to get his attention. Like what I did on Halloween.
I shove the thoughts aside, focusing my attention on Lindsey now. “When’s the last time you saw your mom?”
“Fourth of July?” she says, though she seems unsure. “We were supposed to do something at the end of summer vacation, too, but then ‘something came up.’ That’s why she promised to spend Christmas on the beach with me. I mean, it’s not like I made a big fuss over having to change my plans… but missing out onHawaii?” Hurt seeps into her tone, coloring her words with a heavy disappointment.
Still, I know that the real pain doesn’t come from missing out on her vacation. Lindsey needs her mom. She needs the affirmation that the two people in the world who are supposed to love her unconditionally do. And it sounds like Zach’s ex-wife is failing miserably in that regard.
“You know, the nice thing about it is that, eventually, you grow up. And then you can go see all those places you talked about anyway.” I flash her a conspiratorial smile, and she returns it. “Where will you go first?” I ask, hoping to lift her spirits by imagining all the beautiful places in the world she could go.
Lindsey frowns as she considers my question seriously. “I don’t know. I mean, Hawaii sounds pretty amazing. Or Greece. Japan, maybe? I do love anime.”
“Me too! Wow, I never realized you were so cool.”
She giggles, giving me a playful eye roll that I’m quickly learning is her main form of communication. “Where did you go when you first traveled?”
Smiling so hard my cheeks hurt, I study her for a moment. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”
“Why would I laugh at you about traveling?”
