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I fiddle with the hem of her yellow sweater. "Daddy is going to call you tomorrow and he will come visit you as soon as he can. He loves you so much. You know that, right?"
Her blond hair slips over her shoulder, light and feathery, as tears form in her green eyes. "I want to go home."
"I know," I nod, "but Daddy and Mommy decided that this was the best option for our family right now."
"What does option mean?" A single tear the size of a pearl falls down her cheek.
"It means choice," I try to find the right word. "Like how you choose your outfits in the morning. You pick which one you want to wear and you wear it. It's kind of like that."
It issonot like that, but I don't know how else to explain it to her.
"You didn't ask me," she chews on her lower lip. "I don't want to live here."
"What do you want?" I try.
"I want to go home," she makes clear.
I stand, trying to hold myself together. I'm breaking her heart. I know I am. But I also know this is the best place for us. It's the only place for us.
We were never going to survive in California.
Unless I find a job, we aren't going to survive here, either.
I take her hand. "After brunch, we'll call Daddy."
"I don't want to talk to Daddy," she rips her hand from mine. "I want to go home."
Several pairs of eyes zone in on us as they cross the parking lot, headed our way.
"Let's get some pancakes," I offer. "Bea and Ben are waiting inside for you. I know how much you love your cousins."
"I want to go home," she says weakly as the strangers part around us.
"I know," I swallow thickly.
But that's not home anymore.
—
"Everything, OK?" Dad quietly asks me as I plop into a chair and reach for whoever's mimosa is seated to my right. I down it before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
"I'm great," I lie.
Brianna glances at me from across the table before quickly looking away. Ava hands her a coloring book and crayons so she can color with her cousins. I didn't think to bring an activity to keep her busy, but my sister did. Ava has her shit together. I clearly do not.
"Sorry we're late," Aunt Jenny announces as she and Uncle Kyle slip into the remaining empty seats.
"Why were you late, Mom?" Mia flashes her eyebrows at her parents.
"I, uh," Aunt Jenny stutters. "We...the...garage..." she trails off as she widens her eyes at Uncle Kyle.
"The garage," Uncle Kyle plays along. "It wouldn't open."
"Right, the door!" Aunt Jenny lets out a nervous laugh. "The door was broken and we couldn't get the car out."
"You have a truck," Dad reminds them with his eyebrows raised. "That you never park in the garage. You could have taken that."
"It...um..." Uncle Kyle snaps his fingers.
