Charlotte

My feet are so swollen they feel like back when I was pregnant, but I’m only tired and have been on them for hours. So, when I get out of bed, I want to lay right back down and cancel the day. But Kimberly would like not having to go to school way too much. She usually hates Fridays because of the weekly reading report, but that’s only because she doesn’t do them. I have tried, but I can’t force her to read without making her hate it, and it’s only for extra credit anyway. Not even the ice cream party at the end of the year can convince her.

Once I finish my stretch of dread and check my phone, I use the bathroom and brush my teeth before going to wake Kimberly. She has an alarm clock, but The Loud House cartoon theme song wouldn’t wake the lightest sleeper, the clock is really for decoration.

“Wake up, chickie, time for school.” I pounce my hands on her small frame trying to hide under her plush orange sheets. She giggles once and tries to go silent again to pretend to be asleep.

“No,” she mumbles. I wonder why she is so tired, it’s after eight. Elementary school is lucky, they don’t start until five after nine.

“Why are you so tired?” I pull her cover back, and she lets me this time. I reveal her messy hair falling over her eyes and pouted lips. I giggle at her. She’s so cute.

“Daddy and I watched football,” she says, her expression turning sheepish as she looks up at me. I set my hands on my hips feigning annoyance, but I didn’t expect anything else since she doesn’t like mornings, even when she gets to sleep in on weekends.

“Well, you still have to get up.” I pat her belly sticking out of her orange night dress.

She scowls but does get out of bed eventually. I wait for her to make the bed in a makeshift way, which I’ll fix later, before she brushes and insists on bathing herself again.

My routine is always to do that and then make her breakfast. Recently, I have brought my phone with me because Lowell texts me early in the morning sometimes when he has training. But I have learned he is a morning person. Only there is nothing from him today. I find it odd but don’t dwell on it too much.

We haven’t been back together that long, and I still don’t even know if I would call it back together yet. I don’t see or think about anyone else, but it’s hard to still take that dive when I know we have history. I don’t want it to be because of that or because of Kimberly. So, I don’t know how to separate what I feel from the fantasy I have always had—a family.

I wear my old, battered gray college sweater over my nightgown as I make breakfast. I don’t eat much in the morning, but Kimberly can put down a whole bowl of oatmeal and toast, so that’s what I make. I make coffee and take all my supplements. Not telling myself I am checking my phone for something from Lowell, I run through emails and make mental notes of what to do at work.

The issue with money disappearing is still going on, but it has taken a back seat since I entrusted it to Dani. Even so, I want to make sure I can find something out myself. I’ve never dealt with anything like this. In better news, I got two new distributors at the expo and managed to find another natural hair specialist too. They don’t come around often. I’ll be able to expand my salon to waxing services with one of the distributors and more in-house products along with hair extensions. I haven’t added it to overhead yet, but I imagine it will bring in more to cover it easily. Overall, I’m excited. Besides someone stealing from me, though.

“I’m ready. Where is my food?”

I look up from behind the counter at the sound of Kimberly’s voice, but it’s funny because I can’t even see her until she rounds the corner. She will be short like me and lucky if she makes it past five foot one.

“Excuse me?” I laugh under my breath. Kimberly hops up into the breakfast nook where the food she demanded is and throws her bag on the ground.

“Just kidding.” She swings her legs and starts eating and even turns on her cartoons. The television over the breakfast nook isn’t too loud, and I sit in front of her to be ready if she drops food on her shirt. Today it isn’t orange but blue instead with a graphic logo on the front of the sweater and dark jeans. I don’t remember dressing myself when I was five, but that could be my memory.

“I have my show tonight, Mommy.”

“What show?”

She stops eating having wiped the plates clean and sips her juice. She then smirks at me.

“The talent show. Daddy said he would come.”

“What?” I’m confused about many things because I told her she couldn’t go and don’t remember Lowell having that kind of guardianship authority yet. I saw the permission slip when I declined to sign it.

“He said he would come. And he signed the form. Don’t be mad at him, I didn’t tell him you said no,” she pleads with her eyes.

I sigh. “What are you doing in the show?”

“Piano. Of course.” She grins. It lights up the room, but I still try not to frown. “Like Grandpa taught me. Isn’t that fun?”

I think no, but it’s not like I can tell her my disdain for my dad teaching her to play when I always asked growing up. Or why he has always shown more affection to her than Catherine and me. She is excited about it, and that’s all I care about.

“Yeah, it is. I’ll come, too.” I make a mental note to coordinate that with Lowell.

“Let’s go to school.”

She lets out a record-breaking groan.

“What are you doing later?”

“Probably drinking wine to cry. Cry then drink wine. Why?”

I laugh at my sister. Though Catherine is older than me, I guess it’s hard to tell sometimes. But it’s only because I was the one who had a baby in college and wasn’t in a relationship. Me having to grow up faster is something no one saw coming.

“Kimberly has her talent show tonight.” I sigh. I eat more of the beef in my beef salad, and she watches me with a funny look.

“What?”

“Nothing. What’s that look for?”

I stare at her across the table. The café is quiet probably because it is so expensive, especially for lunch. Catherine came from work dressed in her skirt suit minus the jacket, her chiffon blouse a creamy white. She wore her hair straight today and her makeup dramatic as always. I didn’t feel like it today, but I don’t most days. Jeans and a sweater are my thing. I don’t think anyone expects a salon owner to wear business attire. Maybe.

But I am only avoiding her question.

“You know why. Kimberly loves playing piano, and I keep wondering if she will be more like Dad than I want. I don’t know. Generations skip characteristics.”

She cackles. “Yes, I know. But you shouldn’t think like that. At least she likes something artistic and challenging. You know her favorite thing to do is sleep and eat.”

“She is my daughter.” I smile to myself.

“Don’t I know it. Cheer up.”

“Lowell signed her permission slip.”

“So?” She scrunches her brows and takes a bite of her salmon.

“So… it reminded me he’s her dad. I forgot maybe or tried not to think about it. He can do those kinds of things. Sign permission slips, make important decisions…”

“Well, she isn’t only your kid.”

I stare down at my half-eaten ceramic plate of salad, steadying my breath. “She was for five years.”

“It’s an adjustment. But I thought you were doing well with it.”

I’ve lost my appetite, and so I push my plate away. We are interrupted by the server taking notice and carrying it off while refilling my water.

“We are. Perfect, actually. Kimberly loves him. He’s the cool parent because he hasn’t had to do any of the hard stuff yet. But he’s still better at bedtime than I am. Maybe he pays her, I don’t know. They get along, which is great.” I smile thinking about it.

It’s been great to see them interact with each other, and how he takes to her so easily and is as affectionate as I probably imagined him to be when I would let myself. And if Kimberly hadn’t adjusted quickly, the whole process could have been a lot worse.

“Good. I’m glad… and what about the both of you?”

“What do you mean?” I shift in my seat, but my sister daggers me with her eyes, and I give up.

“Lowell is… the same as he used to be. I don’t know. Only older, somehow hotter, and ugh, I don’t know.” I roll my eyes at myself feeling like I did five years ago when the football star and hottest guy on campus was interested in me.

“You sound ridiculous. Is the sex that good? You’re blushing, and that’s hard for us to do.” She nudges me under the table. I discreetly flip her off, and she laughs.

“If you must know, yes, it is. But it’s not the only thing. Lowell has always been sweet and funny, affectionate even. But he… it might sound crazy, but he touches me differently… looks at me differently. I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you feel different?”

“I don’t know. Back then, I was young and in love too quickly. I’ve grown up, and I know better than to give so much of myself away like that.” I know I should have tried harder to tell him about Kimberly, but he did leave first without a trace until after the fact.

That’s how much I meant to him then, and I don’t know how much I mean to him now.

“I know, go with your gut. Take the chance, if not for anything, for Kimberly. I know you don’t want that to be the reason, but she should get a chance at a real family, too. Mom and Dad may have been different with us, but they loved each other, and we have the best memories growing up as a family.”

I nod, agreeing with her. She giggles to herself, and I question her with a tick of my brow.

“Would you ever have more kids? With Lowell, I mean. Obviously, he’s pretty good at it.”

I roll my eyes at her and laugh in response.

“Let’s finish eating and go, please.”

Catherine and I made a night of this talent-show thing, dressing up nicely for the first time in a while. But also because the parents here are always impeccable and too stuffy for my liking, but that’s neither here nor there. My simple brown shift dress and heels completed my outfit while Catherine wore a long, tight romper. She’s taller and can pull off those types of outfits better than me. Kimberly pretty much matches me in her brown dress with a slight stay in it.

“Are you nervous?” I bend to ask Kimberly, dropping her off backstage like she is a superstar or something. The school has a real theatre auditorium—it’s insane. I avoid other PTA members like the plague, so they don’t enlist me to help with anything.

“No. They only watch their kids, so it’s like I’m playing just for you.” She rocks on her heels and laughs. My kid is insightful. I should take some credit for that.

“Okay, well, I am going to videotape you.”

“And Daddy, too? Where is he?” She cranes her little head out to the audience behind the heavy red curtain.

I sigh to myself and try to come up with a lie. I haven’t heard from him all day, and I want to say he is busy. I know how his practices can turn into press conferences and extended interviews, but I thought he might at least send one text.

“Coming soon. Good luck, chickie.” I force a smile and kiss her forehead.

“Thank you, Mommy.”

I leave her and go sit in the third row with Catherine, though I wanted to pretend I didn’t know her when she argued with people to open up seats instead of using them for their purses.

“I can’t go anywhere with you,” I mutter.

“Oh, would you rather sit in the back? Uh huh.” She laughs once.

I shake my head at her and settle in for the show. The principal, whom I don’t particularly like, gives an announcement about the fine arts program being state of the art and all that jazz. I appreciate it since Kimberly likes music and playing the piano so they can supplement her in that department, but they make it seem like something not every kid could do if they didn’t have the chance. My dad taught himself everything he knew about music. When he became a composer and made a name for himself, he had no one to give credit to, which wasn’t necessarily bad except that maybe he had too much pride. It’s why we came second to his career and why he now lives abroad instead of closer to us. I used to think all musicians were like him. Some things he did left a bad taste in my mouth. I couldn’t even listen to his music as I got older.

Kimberly takes the stage, and all that floods away. She even does a cute little curtsy which has the entire audience laughing. She plays A Little Night Music by Mozart, the first movement—I know this because it’s literally the only one I can play. She takes lessons at school and after-school lessons on Tuesdays. I thought it was a hobby, something for her to do along with her dance lessons. It’s my luck she would choose this one. As soon as she finishes, I send the video from my phone to my dad, and he responds instantly despite it being very late where they currently are in Madrid or somewhere in Europe.

“She could be famous. I’m putting this on YouTube,” Catherine says over the applause. I shake my head at her but secretly agree.

I smile to myself watching her video over again with no sound. She grew so fast. It feels like only yesterday she had to be cuddled against my chest, or she would cry. Now she’s opinionated and growing up. I’ll blink, and she’ll be a teenager stealing my makeup and fretting over boys. And I know she shouldn’t grow up with only me, but I notice again that Lowell isn’t here.

I’m sure something must have happened, or any excuse is possible, but I hate he told Kimberly he was coming, and she was expecting him. Now, she will ask for him, and I’ll have to come up with something to tell her. I experienced that enough as a kid, and I know I can’t shield her from everything, but it was the one thing I could control—not disappointing her.

“There she is.” Catherine finds her first running to Kimberly to scoop her up. There was an award show after that I thought would be ‘thanks for participating, little people’ but there was real judging. Kimberly got second place. Some other kid playing Hot Cross Buns on clarinet with only two fingers won first place. Riveting.

“Congratulations, you were so good. I’m so proud of you.” I hug her with Catherine sandwiching her in, and she laughs furiously until we let her go.

She sets her down and clutches her trophy—a gold thing with the school hawk on top of the base.

“Thank you, Mommy.” She beams at me, then at her aunt. At the same time, her smile falls just as fast, her eyes darting around. Then she looks up at me, hugging her trophy to her chest.

“Where is Daddy. Did he come?”

My mouth opens to speak, a croak in my throat keeps me from saying anything. I glance at Catherine, and she shrugs.

“Um… no, something came up. But he wanted to be here so much.” I soften my voice. The crowd around us dissipates in my mind, and I focus on Kimberly. Her glossy bottom lip trembles once as her little brows tighten together, and I haven’t felt a pang in my chest like this since… ever.

“But… oh. Okay.”

I hold her by her shoulders and crouch down. Catherine leans in too, fixing the end of her dress.

“Let’s go get ice cream to celebrate, huh?” I rub the back of my fingers over her cheek, and she shakes her head.

“That’s okay. Let’s go home.”

I didn’t know she could sound so dejected, but she did and is. She trots off with a drag in her step, and I follow behind her. Catherine is right next to me.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” I whisper to her.

“I’ll watch.”

We reach the car. I strap Kimberly in her car seat and try to make conversation with her again, but she isn’t having it. Not even her favorite song, a bribe to stay up late, and even have extra dessert. Nothing.

To say I’m angry at Lowell is an understatement.