Then I forgot it.
By early afternoon, the backyard was full.
My sister arrived.
Lauren’s closest friends.
Mark’s brother and parents.
A few cousins.
Someone ignored Lauren’s request and brought balloons anyway.
Lauren complained for approximately ten seconds before taking pictures beside them.
For the first time in years, my daughter looked surrounded by happiness.
But even then, I noticed something.
Mark rarely left her side.
His hand stayed near the small of her back.
At first, it looked affectionate.
Then I noticed Lauren touching her stomach repeatedly.
She had done that throughout the pregnancy.
Usually I could tell what it meant.
Sometimes it was love.
Sometimes reassurance.
That afternoon, it looked like protection.
Around four, someone called:
“Cake!”
Everyone gathered beneath the patio.
Lauren stood beside Mark.
“You ready?” he asked.
She gave him a strange look.
“I think so.”
He handed her the knife.
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