I worked long hours, with the help of the family to take care of the children.
But little by little, quietly, things got better and she became the reason I came home.
It became my whole world.
Fifteen years passed as a sigh.
At the time, he was standing on a stool in the dining room, hanging streamers while a barbecue smoked in the backyard. Lily was 18 years old.
“Dad, these are crooked.”
“They’re artistic,” I said.
“They are dishonest.”
He smiled at me from the door, with his cell phone in one hand, and I felt something warm and firm behind the ribs. My son. My whole world.
“Dad, these are crooked.”
I went down and squeezed his shoulder. “Are you happy?”
“A Lot.” My daughter looked at her phone and her smile wavered for a second. “I’ll be right back.”
Lily went out into the hallway and lowered her voice. I was able to capture fragments of the conversation.
“How did you get my number? Stop calling me!”
I was convinced that it was nothing. Now teenagers have their lives secret, and I promised myself years ago that I would give him the privacy I never had as a child.
“I’ll be right back.”
Still, it was the third discreet call this month.
Earlier that week, I walked into the kitchen and she slid a brown paper folder from the table into her backpack with a fluid movement, as if she had practiced.
When I asked him, he simply said, “College things.”
I let it go. I always let it go.
He slipped a hand folder of paper from the table.
Mark had noticed that she had seemed exhausted at work lately.
I once told him, while we were drinking coffee in my kitchen, that I was on the verge of a collapse. I didn’t know how much longer people could continue to operate at 2 a.m.
Lily was in her room that afternoon, close enough to hear.
I haven't thought about it since.
He seemed exhausted at work.
Lily was in the middle of a circle of friends we had invited, laughing at something Rachel had said, her hair reflecting the afternoon light. She was near the grill, flipping burgers, and for a second I just watched her.
My son was growing up fast.
I heard a knock on the front door. I left the spatula and entered the house, hoping to find a late guest or a delivery man. When I opened the door, the balcony was empty.
