“Sheeatedmine!” she repeated, tightening her fist around the cookie, so thata spray of crumbs hit the table’s surface.
“Wait, wait, wait …” I pointed a finger at Shelly. “How many cookieshave you had?”
“Three,” Shelly replied, crossing her arms and pouting.
Putting two and two together, I pointed at the cookie disintegratingin Annabel’s hand. “And this is number three for her …” With a brief chuckleand a sigh, I shook my head. “You both have had three cookies. You’ve justtaken them from each other.” Shelly opened her mouth to protest angrily as Istood up and Annabel proceeded to eat the cookie. I shook my head and pressed afingertip to Shelly’s lips. “Go play. Don’t fight with your sister.”
“But—”
“Nuh-uh. No buts. We’re picking Lilly upfrom school in just a little while, and I need to get some work done beforethen.” I paused and watched the anger dissipate from her face, leaving nothingbut disappointment at the mention of me needing to work. I pushed a reassuringsmile and cupped my hand against her cheek. “How about, if you guys can playnicely until we get Lilly, we all go for ice cream tonight?”
That did the trick. Shelly’s disappointment faded, quickly replacedwith excitement. Annabel and her chocolate-covered grin lit up the kitchen asthe two of them scurried toward their room. Before I could retreat to my ownroom, I wiped the rogue crumbs from the table, remembering the ant infestationof 2014. Beth never handled bugs well, and she’d let the entire building knowwith a scream that dogs probably heard all the way in Australia.
I chuckled gently under my breath at the memory, and just as quicklyas the laugh had bubbled up, I quashed it with the blunt fact of how I missedher.
In a hurry, I foundmyself back in my room, thinking about how strange grief is sometimes. How youcan go days without feeling the sting of pain, and then, when you least expectit, it hits you. Usually over something silly, like cookie crumbs, and you’releft with your back against the door and that ache coursing through you likeit’d only just happened.
I exhaled, emptying mylungs, and when I inhaled, I pulled in the strength to trudge through the painand walk across the room to my keyboard. I sat down on the stool and positionedmy fingers on the keys.
I played through BillyJoel’s “She’s Got A Way,” a favorite among those on a date night. The chordsshifted, and I moved into Ben Folds Five’s “Brick,” a popular one at highschool reunions. I hit the keys with a practiced precision, forcing the emotioninto my voice, and making myself believe I could feel the lyrics the way I oncehad. Before I lost the joy in playing. Before it was just work.
Elton John’s “YourSong” pulsed through my fingertips before I had even realized what I was doing.God, I hadn’t played that song in years. I guess the crumb incident in thekitchen had sparked the inspiration to play the once-familiar tune. It wasoursong, Beth’s and mine. A perfect odeto the most imperfect relationship.
I had nothing to offerher then, when we were together.
I still didn’t.
My hands froze themoment my voice broke, snagging on something in my throat. I pursed my lips andblinked my eyes in quick succession, but my vision still blurred, blending theblack and white hues of the keys to create something waterlogged and muddied.
Dammit. Ipinched the space between my eyes as I pushed and pulled the stifled air in andout of my unsteady lungs. I attempted to talk myself through it, with thereminder that I had to leave and pick Lilly up in fifteen minutes. I didn’tlike the girls to see me like this, not when I’d tried so hard to keep ittogether for the past two years.
With that reminder, Iripped myself from my own head and listened for their giggles and their voices.There they were, playing together nicely, as they had promised. I sighedwoefully once more, dropping my hands to my lap, and breathed out the last ofmy tormented emotion.
For them.
I did it all for them.
***
“Hey kiddo,” I called to my oldestdaughter. Her sneakers hit the gravel as she ran toward me along the path. Fromher hand she waved a big, green piece of construction paper, and when shestopped in front of me, Iknelt downto take a look.“What’s this? You did some drawing?”
“Uh-huh!” She noddedeagerly, putting her artwork on proud display.
“Wow, Lil.” I smiledwith appreciation, despite not having a single clue what I was looking at.Colorful squiggles and circles adorned the page, but I could make out the shapeof some stick figures. Pointing at them, I asked, “Who am I looking at here?”
“That’s you playingyour piano,” she explained, pointing at one figure in front of what I now sawas my keyboard. “And this is me, Annabel, and Shelly.”
I nodded. “I like howeverybody has green hair. Very creative.”
“Green’s my favoritecolor.”
My eyes lifted to hers,and I smiled. “I knew that.” Dropping my gaze back to the drawing, I asked,“Where are we? Outside?”
She shook her head.“No.”
Tapping my finger againstthe page, I met her eyes once again. “Oh, I was just wondering because thesun’s out right here.”
“That’s not thesun, Daddy,” she retorted, speaking tome as though I was the biggest idiot on the planet. “That’sMommy.”
