“I knew it!” Hannah looks triumphant. “You weren’t listening to me. Youneverlisten to me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Fine. Then tell me something that’s going on with me.”
I put down the sauce pan I’m rinsing off. “You’re not handing in your American history homework?”
Hannah’s cheeks turn pink. “I told you. Those assignments are stupid.”
“It doesn’t matter. You still have to do them.”
“But what’s the point? Why do I need to know about some stupid war that happened, like, five-hundred years ago?”
“The revolutionary war happened two-hundred-fifty years ago, Hannah.”
“Ugh!” She puts her hands on her hips. She’s been doing that when she’s upset ever since she was two years old. “What’s the difference? It’s still a really long time ago.”
“It doesn’t matter if you think it’s stupid or not. It’s part of your education. Liam always—”
“Right. Liam. You want me to be just like him. Because he’ssoperfect.”
I turn to Hannah, staring at her pale, round face. I’m not entirely sure if she’s being sarcastic or not. Most of the worst stuff with Liam happened when he was much younger—I would imagine Hannah is too young to even remember. When we sent him to Dr. Hebert, he was only seven and Hannah was five. I’ve tried my best to shield her from what goes on, but sometimes I wonder how much she knows.
Does Hannah know anything?Everything? What hasLiam told her? Did she mention Olivia in the car to tease Liam or to tip me off?
“After all,” Hannah adds, “he’s yourfavorite, isn’t he?”
My cheeks burn. I hate that it’s so obvious how I favor Liam over her. I shouldn’t. It’s a sign of terrible parenting. I read once that most children long for their parents to be proud of them, so it makes sense that Hannah is struggling in school if she feels like she’ll never do as well as her brother.
“Hannah,” I say, “you know that’s not true. I love both of you equally.”
She snorts.
“Look. Why don’t we do something together? Just the two of us. I can take you to the mall this weekend and we can get you some new clothes. We haven’t had a shopping spree in almost a year. I owe you.”
My daughter narrows her eyes at me, but it doesn’t take much to win her over. New clothes usually do the job. “Can we go on Saturday?”
“Sure.”
“And can we go to Purple Haze after?”
Purple Haze is an ice cream shop that Hannah used to love when she was a little kid. “Of course.”
Her lips widen in a smile. “Okay. That sounds good.”
Of course, then I start to second-guess myself. I justdiscovered Hannah hasn’t been handing in her history assignments. Maybe this situation doesn’t call for a reward. But now that I’ve told her we’re doing this, I can’t very well take it back.
“But,” I add, “we’ll only go if you hand in all your history homework this week. And I want toseeit, Hannah.”
Hannah looks like she’s about to start pouting, but then her shoulders drop. “Okay. Fine.”
A small victory.
Before we can make a further dent in the dishes, the front door opens, and the heavy footsteps of my husband and son float into the kitchen. Jason took Liam out for another driving lesson tonight. Things are going very well—Liam is a natural behind the wheel. No surprises there.
They come to find us in the kitchen, where we’ve barely made a dent in our chores for the evening. Jason is grinning broadly, and he slings an arm around Liam’s shoulders. “What can I say, Erika? Our kid is a great driver. Just like his dad.”
I shoot him a look.
