Chương 5
“Then what exactly was she supposed to do with that?”
“I don’t know.”
Lily was listening now.
Daniel turned away and lowered his voice.
“I need to go.”
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
He looked at the blackened pancake in the trash.
“I know.”
He ended the call.
Lily took a bite.
“Is Aunt Vanessa sad?”
Daniel turned back.
“Yes.”
“Because you made her leave?”
“Probably.”
Lily chewed.
“Do you feel bad?”
He pulled out the stool beside her.
“Yes.”
She looked surprised.
“I can feel bad and still think she needed to leave.”
Lily moved a blueberry through a pool of syrup.
“Can she feel bad and still be mean?”
“Yes.”
That answer seemed to matter.
Daniel waited.
“Can I be mad at her and miss her?”
“Yes.”
Lily nodded.
“Okay.”
She ate another bite.
Daniel looked at his daughter and thought about how often adults complicated children’s emotions by demanding they be morally tidy.
Vanessa had packed Lily’s lunches.
She knew how Lily liked her apples cut.
She remembered library day.
She had sat through gymnastics practices Daniel missed.
She had brushed tangles out of Lily’s hair.
She had also cut apart something Lily loved and told a grieving child that winning could not bring back her mother.
Both were true.
Daniel’s phone vibrated.
A message from his boss.
Chicago still good Wednesday?
Daniel looked at it for a long time.
Then he typed:
Need to discuss a family issue Monday morning.
He did not explain more.
That afternoon Daniel drove Lily to gymnastics.
The gym smelled of chalk, foam, and the rubber matting that clung permanently to the walls and floors. Girls moved between stations while parents sat on metal bleachers pretending not to watch every landing.
Coach Rachel met them near the entrance.
She was twenty-nine, compact, direct, and perpetually dusted with chalk as though she had been lightly breaded.
“Hey, beam queen.”
Lily’s face changed.
Not much.
But Daniel saw the brief flash of pride before she pushed it down.
Rachel saw it too.
“You disappeared pretty fast yesterday.”
Lily shrugged.
Rachel looked at Daniel.
“Everything okay?”
Daniel almost said yes.
The word rose automatically.
Then he stopped.
“Something happened at home after the meet.”
Rachel waited.
Daniel glanced at Lily.
“Can I tell Coach Rachel?”
Lily’s hands tightened around the straps of her gym bag.
After a moment, she nodded.
Daniel kept the explanation short.
When he finished, Rachel did not gasp or offer the kind of sympathy adults sometimes performed for children.
She crouched until she was level with Lily.
“Want to practice today?”
Lily looked toward the beam.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s allowed.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then you don’t.”
“Will you be mad?”
“Nope.”
“Will you think I’m quitting?”
Rachel shook her head.
“I’ll think you didn’t practice today.”
Lily considered that.
Daniel looked away to give her room.
A toddler in the viewing area was trying to lick the railing. His father removed him, and the toddler returned immediately with impressive commitment.
Lily finally said, “Can I do bars instead?”
Rachel stood.
“Absolutely.”
Lily went to change.
Rachel waited until she was out of hearing range.
Then she looked at Daniel.
“Has someone been telling her she’s spoiled because of gymnastics?”
Daniel’s chest tightened.
“Why?”
“She apologizes when I compliment her.”
He stared at Rachel.
“She started doing it maybe two months ago. I thought it was a weird phase.”
“What does she say?”
“Mostly, ‘It wasn’t that good.’ Or she looks around like she wants to make sure nobody heard.”
Daniel sat down on the metal bench.
Rachel folded her arms.
“She’s eight. Kids get weird about attention. But this has been consistent.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The question came out harsher than he intended.
Rachel’s eyebrows lifted.
Daniel immediately said, “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fair.”
She sat beside him.
“I didn’t know there was something to tell. She still participated. She still laughed with the other girls. Her scores improved. Nothing looked dangerous.”
Daniel nodded.
“She was just getting smaller.”
Rachel looked toward the gym floor.
“Yeah.”
He watched Lily emerge from the locker room.
She joined the warm-up line.
When another girl waved at her, Lily waved back.
Daniel said, “I travel for work.”
Rachel looked at him.
“My sister was taking care of her.”
“I figured.”
“I didn’t see it.”
Rachel did not tell him he could not have known.
He appreciated that.
Instead she said, “You see it now.”
Daniel looked at his daughter.
“That doesn’t fix it.”
“No.”
Rachel stood.
“But it gives you somewhere to start.”
On Monday, Daniel sat across from his boss at 8:15 in the morning and learned how expensive protection could become.
Mark Feldman listened without interrupting while Daniel explained that he could not travel to Chicago Wednesday and would need temporary flexibility for school pickup.
Mark was not cruel.
That made the conversation harder.
“I can cover Chicago,” he said. “That’s not the issue.”
Daniel waited.
“The issue is the Easton account.”
Daniel knew.
He had been positioning himself for lead partner on Easton for eight months.
If the account landed, it would likely mean a promotion by spring.
Mark folded his hands.
“They need someone available.”
“I am available.”
“You’re telling me you can’t travel.”
“This week.”
“Maybe.”
Daniel looked at him.
Mark sighed.
“I have kids too.”
Daniel almost smiled.
Nothing good had ever followed that sentence in a workplace.
Mark continued. “I’m not saying choose work over your daughter.”
“Okay.”
“I’m saying I need to know what I can promise a client.”
Daniel looked through the glass wall of Mark’s office.
Two analysts walked past carrying coffee.
A printer started somewhere outside.
Normal Monday.
“How long do you need?”
Daniel asked, “How long do I need for what?”
“To stabilize things.”
The phrase irritated him.
Children were not servers.
Families did not stabilize on project schedules.
Daniel said, “I don’t know.”
Mark nodded slowly.
“That’s the problem.”
May you like
Daniel left the office without a solution.
At 2:30 he drove forty minutes to Lily’s school because there was nobody else.
