For the first time she could hear anger in his voice. Her mother smiled blandly at him. “Gideon, dearest, you don’t remember this, but occasionally our Grace had a tendency to exaggerate when she was younger.”
Her father laughed. “That she did. Remember the time when she was eight and she swore she had a broken arm after she fell off her bike?”
“It was broken,” Gracie said. “Fractured ulna, remember? I was in a cast for six weeks.”
Her father cocked his head, a surprised look crossing his face. “Was it? I don’t remember it being fractured. Andrea, honey, do you remember that?”
“I don’t. But you know how my memory is.” Her mother changed the subject. “Going anywhere this summer, Gideon?”
“No,” he said. “Yourself?”
“Actually,” her mother took her father’s hand and squeezed it, “Rick and I are going to Europe for the month of September. Don’t worry, Grace, Mrs. Wilson next door is going to look after Sassy, so you don’t have to stop in and aggravate your little allergy.”
“We can’t wait.” Her father kissed her mother’s hand. “We’ve wanted to go for years to Europe but when you have a child, it’s so difficult to get away and spend time with each other.”
Her mother gave Gideon a serious look. “When you get married, Gideon, you must always remember to make time for your spouse once you have children. It can’t just be all about the children. All right?”
“I’ll remember that.” Gideon’s voice was thin and his grip on her hand tightened.
Grace used her other hand to rub the top of his hand. He glanced at her before loosening his grip.
“We’re also taking a little mini-get away at the beginning of next month,” her mother said. “Your father is taking me up to New York City for the July long weekend. Doesn’t that sound like fun? It’s been so long since I’ve been there. I can’t wait to visit all the museums and soak in the atmosphere.”
“The July long weekend,” Gideon said.
“Yes,” Andrea said. “We leave the morning of the third and don’t come back until the evening of the seventh. It’ll be the most marvelous trip. Just me and the man I love, in the city that calls to my artistic soul.”
“Gracie’s birthday is July third,” Gideon said.
“Oh, shoot, that’s right.” Andrea smiled at Grace. “Sorry, sweetheart. But I know you don’t mind. You know how difficult it is for your father and me to get away.”
“You could leave later in the day.” Gideon’s voice was too loud. “You could at least have lunch with her.”
“We would, but our flight’s already booked,” her mother said. “We’ll do dinner when we get back, just the three of us. All right?”
“Sure,” Grace said. She knew it wouldn’t happen. Her mother was always scheduling dinner with her and always cancelling at the last minute.
Gideon’s face was red, and he was on the edge of losing his temper. She squeezed his hand and pushed lightly on his shoulder with hers. “We need to get going. It was good to see you, Mom and Dad.”
“You too, sweetheart,” her mother said. “Don’t be a stranger. Our schedule is crazy this month but give me a call when we’re back from our New York trip. We’ll fit you in for a coffee or dessert or something. All right?”
Gideon’s nostrils flared. He opened his mouth and Grace said hurriedly, “That sounds good. Gideon, let’s go.”
She squeezed his hand hard before dropping it. His face still red, he slid out of the booth, gave her parents a stiff smile, then stalked away. She kissed her mother’s cheek and hurried after him.
He walked down the street, his long stride eating up the distance, his back ramrod straight.
“Gideon,” she said, “wait up a minute.”
He slowed and she caught up to him, trying to catch her breath as they walked toward her car.
“Your parents are shitheads,” he said.
“They’re not. They’re nice people who are really self-absorbed.”
“I have never met two people more selfish in my life,” he said. “The fact that you came from them is goddamn astonishing.”
They were at her car now and he leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her. “They don’t even care about your birthday.”
She just shrugged. Her lack of emotion seemed to piss him off even more. “You’re their only kid, Gracie. They should care about your fucking birthday.”
“They don’t,” she said. “They never have. You know that, Gideon. How many birthdays did I celebrate at your house? If it hadn’t been for your mom, I would have never had a birthday cake. Not one. I didn’t even know that kids got cake and presents on their birthday until I met Kira. I was six years old and the first time I realized that parents threw parties for their kid with presents and cake was at Kira’s seventh birthday party.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he growled. “They’re goddamn monsters.”
“They aren’t,” she said. “They’re obsessed with each other and themselves and that doesn’t leave much room for me.”
“You should be angry.” He raked his hands through his hair in obvious frustration.
“I used to be angry all the time. But I realized I wasn’t hurting anyone but myself. Now I’m usually pretty good, unless I spend time with them.” She smiled ruefully. “It’s a little harder to be Zen about it when I’m face-to-face with their selfishness, but I’m working on it.”
“But it’s your birthday,” he repeated.
“I gave up on my parents’ caring about my birthday when I turned eleven.”
“What happened?”
She hugged herself, hating that the memory still had power to hurt her. “The year before that was when the carnival started coming to town every summer. Do you remember?”
“I do,” he said. “Mom and Dad took Kira and me to it.”
“I wanted to go to the carnival so bad,” she said. “I could see the Ferris wheel and hear the music from my house. At night, I’d sit on my bed and watch the Ferris wheel go around and around. I’d imagine what it was like to ride it. To sit in the metal bucket between my parents, holding their hands while we went around until we were so high we could see all of Harmony Falls.”
She studied the pavement between her feet. “My parents didn’t take me that first year. Mom was busy with an art show and Dad had just become manager at the bank and was swamped with work. When we found out the carnival was coming back the following summer, I asked them to take me to it for my birthday. I’d never asked for a present for my birthday, but I wanted that one thing. I had it in my head that if my parents took me to the carnival, then it meant they did love me. That they wanted me after all, and I was more than just a body in the house who they had to feed and water.”
She scuffed her shoe along a crack in the sidewalk. “My parents taking me to the carnival meant I was important to them. I would have value in their eyes.”
“Gracie,” Gideon said in a low voice.