“Love you too, Mama.”
I stare at the illuminated face of my phone for a long minute after I end the call. I don’t know what’s worse — that I straight-up lied to my own mother, or the fact that I’m going to let her down.
What if you don’t? A tiny voice in my head chirps. What if you do bring someone to the party?
I try to dismiss the idea, but something about it sticks, refusing to leave.
It’s been seven years since Rory’s mother died, taken by a rare and vicious form of cancer. In that time I’ve gone on a handful of dates that all went nowhere. I wasn’t ready to leave the memory of my beloved Julie, and besides, I had a baby to raise.
But the thought of having a partner in crime — an adult one, that is — for the family party? The more I turn the idea over in my head, the more it sounds really damn attractive.
And I don’t have to be dating the person I bring. I could bring someone I’m friendly with, platonically. Someone that Rory won’t mind tagging along with us.
Shaking my head, I try to put the whole conundrum out of my mind. I’m here for my daughter and don’t want this ridiculous problem that I’ve created for myself to steal any of my attention from her.
I follow the needle-strewn path through the evergreens, heading for the end of the ropes course. Rounding a bend, I’m rewarded with the sight of my daughter setting her jaw at the top of the zipline before throwing herself off the sixty foot tall platform into thin air.
My stomach swoops as gravity takes hold and my baby plummets toward the earth. But then she reaches the limit of the zipline’s slack and she’s flying, not falling, face alight with an open-mouthed grin of joy.
I can’t help but give a whoop, cheering her on. If I thought my chest filled with pride at the mere memory of Hattie’s compliment, now it feels like my ribs might burst with how fucking proud I am of my kid. Tears spring up in my eyes, simmering without falling. I don’t wipe them away.
“It’s hard to believe that a couple of years ago we could barely get her to even look at our easiest elements, isn’t it?” a voice says from behind me.
Turning, I see Hattie approaching. She’s wearing her usual bright smile, but I notice that her gray eyes have an unfamiliar sadness shadowing them. I frown, hating to see this young woman who’s become so important to my daughter hurting.
“It really is,” I agree. My gaze lingers on her eyes, but I decide that it’s none of my business. “Rory’s very fond of you, you know.”
Hattie’s smile widens. “That’s so nice to hear. I’m a big fan of her too.” She leans in, glancing around us as if to make sure no one’s within earshot. “Don’t tell the other parents,” she whispers, “but Rory’s my favorite kid in the program.”
I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. And hell, why would I want to? My daughter is amazing, and I’m grateful that her favorite role model can see it.
Rory races over, unclipping the chin strap of her helmet. “Dad! Did you see? It was my first time on the zipline and it was awesome!”
I pull her into a hug. “You bet your butt I did. You’re so brave, kid.”
“And,” Hattie adds, “you conquered our hardest climbing wall today also.”
I pull Rory back so I can look her in the eyes. “The one with the upside-down part?”
She nods, the helmet flopping back and forth on her head, green eyes blazing above the freckles she inherited from her mother. “Yeah! It was super hard, and I thought I was going to fall.”
“But you kept trying?” I lead.
“Uh-huh, and I did it!”
“Heck yeah you did,” Hattie says, and now Rory throws herself into the young woman’s arms. Hattie returns the hug warmly, and for the second time in a handful of minutes, tears spring to my eyes. This time, they’re tears of gratitude that Rory has a kickass female like Hattie in her life.
We met Hattie through the Outdoor Adventure afterschool program, but she’s also babysat Rory. And on top of that, Rory’s attended every summer day camp that Hattie has headed. I don’t have enough fingers to count the number of times that my daughter has asked if Hattie could sleep over.
The idea hits me like a lightning bolt, shocking in its obviousness. Once again, words spill out of my mouth while my mind struggles to catch up.
“Hey, Hattie,” I say, “would you be game to accompany me and Rory to my family’s get-together this Saturday? As friends, of course. Rory would love it —“ I glance down at my daughter, who’s nodding her head so hard her helmet falls off “—and you’d be doing me a huge favor.”
Hattie’s cheeks flush, and with a start I realize how lovely she is. She’s probably about ten years younger than me, and I’ve always seen her as perfectly rough and tumble and a total badass. But now I’m realizing how feminine she is too, with graceful limbs, a willowy body, almond-shaped eyes, and a purple-pink pixie cut that gives her an elfin look. Something stirs in my belly, vaguely familiar, like a mostly forgotten but wholly pleasant dream.
I shove it away, eyes on Hattie. My heart’s in my throat and it suddenly feels very important that she says yes.
“Will there be food?” she asks.
“Loads of it,” I promise.
“Then I’m in.” Her lips twist into a tilted half-smile that makes me grin in return.
Rory crows with happiness and jumps, punching the air. “Yes! This is awesome!”
“More awesome than the zipline?” Hattie asks.
“Uh, duh. You’re the best.”
I can tell that Hattie’s taken aback by my daughter’s easy reply, but I do not expect the tears that make her gray eyes swim.
A primal force in me rears its head, demanding that I protect this hurting woman. I have to shove my hands into my pockets to keep them from pulling her into an embrace.
Hattie sniffs and the tears are gone as quickly as they came, the thickness of her voice the only evidence that they existed at all. “Then it’s settled.” She crooks an eyebrow at me. “Just know that I can eat a lot.”
“My mother will be delighted.” I chuckle. Because even though my head is spinning, I’m realizing that I’m relieved that Hattie will be joining Rory and I at the party for reasons that have nothing to do with appeasing my mother.
Hattie
I don’t know what makes me say yes. Maybe it’s how sad I feel over never being able to have a kick-ass kid like Rory of my own. Maybe I want the distraction, something to take my mind off the news. Or maybe I’m just lonely.
Whichever it is, the result is the same — I accept Ben’s offer.
And then Rory promptly makes me cry.
So I chomp hard on the inside of my cheek and force my tears to back the hell off. Ben looks at me curiously, though, with something like empathy in his emerald eyes.
Which makes the tears threaten to fall all over again. Because I realize that here is a person who’s known real loss and can truly relate — in general, if not in the specifics of my situation.
I can’t stop thinking about the moment when I see Ben see me. I’m still turning it over in my mind as I pack up my things after all the kids have gotten picked up. I carry it with me on the drive to my townhouse, and it’s all I can see when I’m trying to follow the instructions for a mango chicken curry recipe. The dish somehow turns out okay, but I burn my naan bread.