by Katie Cross
“I’m confused. How can self-care stop a habit—admittedly, not the healthiest one—that’s been years in the making?”
“You’re giving yourself what you need.” She formed a fist. “All the time that we clutch the reins of control, we’re fighting ourselves. If you can figure out what you need—which is rarely food or extreme exercise or laxatives—you can address the actual problem.”
“Oh.”
Another silence fell while I puzzled that out. The simplicity stunned me. While reading cheesy romance novels, perusing cookbooks, and relishing in a nap every now and then, I’d really been addressing a more primal instinct than eating.
Taking care of myself.
“Why didn’t I figure this out sooner? This isn’t the first time you and I talked about self-care. Things could have been different for Daniel and me if I had started taking care of myself sooner. Maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe I wouldn’t have lost…”
…my happy ending.
Was life with Daniel a happy ending?
“Maybe things would have been different,” Janine said. “Maybe not. Self-care isn’t one and done. It’s not a magic wand. It’s a lifelong commitment to yourself. It evolves, just like we do.”
My fork sank halfway into the pile of coleslaw. Janine dipped a fry in ketchup, eyebrows half-raised, as if she could see the moving parts of my mind.
Maybe I would have gone to college and never met Daniel.
Maybe I would never have been bulimic.
Maybe Lizzy would never have seen me purge.
Maybe Daniel would never have been able to step between the girls and me.
Something terrible and awful loomed behind the thoughts. Something dark. Sinister. Something I had a feeling I had been trying to avoid by counting calories and monitoring my weight and being bitter. It fluttered to the light—dark, coiled, and treacherous. Tears filled my eyes as I shoved it back down.
No.
Whatever that monster was, I couldn’t confront it today.
Janine paused, studying me. “What is it, Bitsy?”
“I might lose the girls.”
The words flew out of my mouth of their own accord. She reached across the table and grabbed my trembling hand.
“What happened?”
I told her about the impending meeting with our lawyers, Daniel’s house, and the girls’ responses. By the time I’d relayed everything, exhaustion overcame me.
“I-I can’t let this happen.” I shook my head, swallowing back the threat of tears yet again. “I cannot let them be influenced by him. Sure, he has money, but—”
“You can’t let them be close to their father?”
“He’ll hurt and disappoint them,” I said.
“What if you preventing them just drives them closer to Daniel?”
“It won’t take long for him to show his true colors. They’ll see.” I filled my voice with a confidence I didn’t feel.
“He probably will cause them pain, but so will you.”
Her easy response, spoken so casually, caught me by surprise.
“What?”
“All of us disappoint. All of us let others down. All of us cause pain. No one is perfect, Bitsy. That’s nothing you can protect them from. To even try would be … exhausting. Not to mention futile and counterproductive. You’re here to teach your girls how to manage the rain. Not to hold the umbrella over them forever.”
“They’re too young.”
“So were you when your mom died,” she whispered. “But you learned and grew and became the beautiful woman you are today, didn’t you?”
A moment passed between us with a depth of understanding I could barely comprehend. Weight pressed on my chest, sinking right into my heart. Her eyes had misted, her grip tightened.
I swallowed hard. “I know. That’s why I have to do this. I know how it feels to lose your childhood too early because of someone else. I won’t lose them, Janine. I won’t. They are all I really have.”
“Is this about you or them?”
“Them.”
“You can’t control everything, Bitsy.”
“But this I can control. The one card I will not give up. I can’t. For their own good.”
Janine stared at me. For a moment, I got lost in her intensity. Then she let out a long breath. Resignation filled her gaze.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I don’t think you’re ready for more than okay right now. But you will be. One day, this will all play out. You’ll be forced to be ready then.”
Something prickled inside me, registering her even tone of voice. The voice she used when she was holding back. What did be forced to be ready then mean? Was I wrong to protect them? Was I wrong to try?
No.
That was insane. I was lucky because I could protect them. In ways my parents had never been able to protect me. Another wave of tears surfaced, but I choked them back. Janine relaxed back in the booth and stared at her plate, seeming at a loss.
A waitress walked by rattling a tray of plates. A busboy followed in her footsteps. The hectic air of the diner had faded a little, but to me, it felt more intense than ever before.
The Reuben awaited me.
Dressing spilled over the stack of pastrami in between the buttered bread. The tangy, delicious smell hit me, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of eating it. I leaned back in the chair and pushed the sandwich away, feeling more lost than ever.
“Mom, I’m not going to be the girl without a dad now.”
Lizzy looked at me through the mirror, her eyes alight. A fever of energy ran through her. Her comment arrested me mid-curl. I scrambled to recover before I burned her hair off.
“What do you mean?”
“At the play tonight! Dad and Jade are going to be there too. Now I won’t have people asking why my dad isn’t there. He will be!”
She balled her hands into fists and squealed. See? I wanted to say to Janine. Look at what he’s already done to them. Lizzy’s rampant energy seemed to affect Lana, who ran pell-mell around the house, half of her crab costume bouncing off her hips. I released the clamp on the curling iron and pulled it away, focusing my attention on the perfect curl behind.
You can’t protect them forever, Janine said in my mind.
Watch me.
“Yes, sweetheart,” I murmured. “That will be very exciting.”
Lizzy clenched her teeth and squeezed out a laugh, her hands clasped in front of her. The sheer joy in her expression made my heart catch.
Enjoy it while you got it, baby girl, I thought. He always lets people down.
“Hold still, babe. I don’t want to burn your ear.”
Through sheer willpower, she schooled her excitement, closed her eyes, and drew in a deep breath.
“Chrissy is going to love Jade,” she whispered. “I just know it! I’m ready for this play. I’m ready. I know all my lines.”
Just to be sure, she ran through them again. None of them were elaborate. Thanks to the PTA’s attempts to fit as many students as possible into acting parts, much of the speaking was spread out. Most of Lizzy’s role involved looking regal, the way a merprincess would. Fortunately, she excelled at that.
Lana streaked by, shrieking and half naked.
While applying faint blush, tousling glitter in her perfect curls, and adding another coat of hairspray, a thought entered my mind.
I should text Daniel.
An immediate response followed. No. I am not his keeper. If he can’t be responsible enough at his age to remember something this important, he doesn’t deserve them.
If he doesn’t show—
Then the girls will finally see the truth, and we can start reconstructing our lives again. Without him.
The thought of adding missed school play to the Daniel Calendar gave me a little thrill. What more solid proof than that did I need that he wasn’t ready to be a steady influence?
Satisfied at my mental arithmetic, I dus
ted a light sheen of sapphire eyeshadow above her eyes. Allowing Daniel to be responsible for himself felt freeing. Lizzy stared at herself in the mirror, eyes wide.
“Mom, I look like a princess.”
I wrapped her in a quick squeeze. “You absolutely do. Now, let’s go! We need to be there early for your television interview and the PTA photoshoot.”
Lizzy threw herself off the stepstool, nearly running into Lana.
“Watch it!” Lana scowled. “I’m crabby like Jim!”
“I can’t wait to see Dad!” Lizzy said as she rushed to her bedroom. “He’s going to think I’m the most beautiful girl in the world!”
They dissolved into giggles and raced to the front door. When I grabbed my phone, I saw a missed text from Mira.
Tell the girls to break a leg!
Thanks! I replied. I’ll send pictures.
For what felt like an eternity, I stared at the screen. Daniel hadn’t texted me to ask directions, or for the time, or to see what the dress code was. That meant he either already knew, which seemed unlikely, or he’d forgotten. I pulled my bottom lip through my teeth as I stood there, debating. Texting him would take two seconds.
No, came the firm voice again. The girls are going to have to learn at some point what the truth is. Sooner is better than too late. Let him show his true colors.
I grabbed my purse and keys and tucked my phone firmly into my back pocket. Let Daniel make his choices.
I had parenting to do.
Mayhem ricocheted off the walls.
The chatter of young children thickened the hallways of the local stage theater. Girls in fairy costumes pranced past me, wings floating, glitter sparkling. Boys dressed as mermen, octopi, and glimmering algae crowded the corridor. If nothing else, at least I hadn’t been in charge of this function. The sheer scope gave me a headache.
Not to mention the smell of popcorn in the air.
Lizzy beamed through her interview with the local news crew, Lana got tangled in her crab feet, and the entire cast crowded into a massive group picture near a trophy cupboard. By the time the children’s cacophony died down—thanks to parent volunteers ushering them into the back rooms behind the stage—the room echoed with adult voices.
“This is a school play?”
“Looks like a city production.”
“This is huge. Look at those pamphlets!”
“Those are three different news crews.”
In that moment, I realized I was standing in the middle of the room for no discernible reason. People streamed around me, headed for the auditorium. The girls had gone backstage at least ten minutes ago with Lizzy’s teacher, Mrs. Jameson. I extricated myself from my thoughts. I had been looking for Daniel.
No tall, chocolate-haired figure had shown up bestowing a charming smile on the room. No sign of Jade, even, and her shimmering red hair. The clock overhead said 6:50. Ten more minutes.
He isn’t going to show, I thought with relief. This was my chance to prove…
To prove what?
That I was a better parent?
I shook the thought free. Still no sign of him. Good. Lizzy’s ecstatic voice whirled through my head.
Mom, I’m not going to be the girl without a dad now.
I grabbed my ticket from my pocket and passed it to a gangly teenager who stood at the entrance to the auditorium.
After he tore it in half, I worked my way toward the front of the stage. When I finally found my seat, I sat down. Two empty seats waited next to me. At least I’d know when he arrived.
If he arrived.
I attempted to relax, but the joy on Lizzy’s face played in my head. Lana’s ecstatic giggles when she put her whole costume on. Did I really want him to miss it?
… maybe. Or maybe not.
I turned around and scanned the crowd. Why hadn’t Jade done something about his ridiculous tardiness? If he did miss it, it wouldn’t be my fault, that was for sure.
My fingers itched to grab my phone. Should I call him? He still had time to show up if he’d forgotten. The school wasn’t that far away. Before I could grab my phone and give in to the temptation, a voice caught my ear.
“Mom!”
I whipped around to find Lizzy peeking out from behind the stage curtain. Her makeup glimmered in the lights, making her look entirely too grown up. Lana peered out from beneath her, cheeks painted with bright red circles. I grinned and waved, gratified that I was there, at least.
“You look great!” I called.
“Where’s Dad?” Lizzy hissed.
“I don’t know.”
Panic infused her expression. “He has to be here! Go find him.”
“I’ve been looking. I can’t see him.”
I reached for my phone just as the lights dimmed. The sound of heels clacked on the hardwood floor. Crystal Bailey, the head of the PTA, stood in the middle of the stage, a spotlight illuminating her face. Lizzy and Lana disappeared with a shriek. Did I see tears in Lizzy’s eyes?
My heart dropped.
“Oh, no,” I whispered.
The ugly truth settled on me like a blanket. If Daniel didn’t make it, he would prove his true colors … but he’d also hurt Lizzy. Did I want that?
Crystal’s voice swelled over the crowd, quieting the rambunctious chatter. “Ladies and gentlemen, moms and dads, family, and friends. Welcome to this year’s school play, The Mermaid’s Whisper.”
Panic coursed through me. With frantic fingers, I found Daniel in my contacts list, called him, and pressed a finger to my opposite ear.
Please answer, I chanted in my head. Please be there…
Voicemail.
Lizzy peeked out again, only one eye visible. She pleaded silently with me. I spun around to face a sea of people, then shook my head at her and held up my phone.
I don’t see him, I mouthed. Her eyes widened. She disappeared. I dialed Daniel again.
It’s not your fault if he doesn’t show up, a voice in my head said.
I know, I thought. But I don’t want her to hurt.
Crystal continued to speak, a rolling commentary to my burgeoning horror.
Voicemail again.
Just as I started typing out a text to Jade, Lizzy’s teacher appeared on the stairs next to the stage and waved frantically for me.
“It’s Lizzy!” she whispered. “Hurry!”
With my heart in my throat, I abandoned the text, shoved my phone into my pocket, and rushed backstage.
Chapter 14
My Father
Lizzy sat in front of a mirror rimmed with lights, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders trembled. The backstage bustle was interrupted by an occasional giddy laugh, the sound of someone falling over their costume, and the stress-ridden voices of parents trying to maintain control.
Lana stood in front of Lizzy, arms folded, teeth bared. As soon as I rushed up to them, Lana relaxed.
“Moooom!” she cried. “Where’s Dad?”
“I don’t know, Lana. Lizzy, what’s wrong?”
Lizzy stood up and threw her arms around me. Her makeup had smeared and dripped down her face in ebony lines. Tears dampened my neck as she sobbed.
“H-h-h-he’s not here!” she wailed. Her thin arms held me tight. I wrapped her in my arms and glanced at Mrs. Jameson, who watched with a gaze full of pity. “He promised. I-I-I wanted him here. I wanted to h-have a dad!”
I pulled away to crouch down and look her in the eyes.
“I know you’re disappointed, sweetheart. I can see that. I’m so sorry you are. But he may just be running late, or he may be in the hall.”
“N-no!” she cried, shuddering. “H-he promised me roses b-before the play! I’ve never had roses!”
Lana’s expression solidified into rock-solid hatred. She put an arm around Lizzy’s shoulders, malice glittering in her eyes.
“Don’t worry about it, Lizzy,” Lana whispered. “Dad’s not worth it.”
I felt no rush of elation or relief at Lana’s pronounc
ement. No giddy feeling that the girls would certainly be all mine now. Instead, a gaping chasm opened up in my chest. My six-year-old should never have rage in her eyes. Not at this age. Lizzy shouldn’t have to cry because she felt let down by any parent.
Not even Daniel.
I grabbed onto both of them.
“Listen, girls, I know you’re both angry and disappointed, but we … we can’t control what your dad does, all right? He might be late, or he may have forgotten the roses. Or maybe they’re too big to bring back here. A teacher may not have allowed him back. Okay?”
Lizzy didn’t meet my eyes, even when I shook her a little to get her attention. She cast a glance at the door, sniffling, as if still holding onto a shred of hope that he’d show up. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my ever-present tissue. Lizzy didn’t protest as I mopped up her face. Remnants of makeup and glitter made the tissue sparkle.
“You are a mermaid princess and a powerful young girl. You’re going to go out there, say those lines, and rock this performance. Okay? And you, Lana, are going to be the best crustacean that stage has ever seen. Can you girls do that even if Dad isn’t here?”
Lana nodded, but the joy had gone out of her eyes. Lizzy hiccupped, wiped her face with her wrists, and finally mumbled, “Fine.” Her shoulders sagged like limp noodles as the two of them shuffled toward the stage entrance and the children milling there. One of the parents ushered Lizzy to the front. They tried to part her from Lana, but Lana snatched Lizzy’s arm and refused to budge. With a sigh, I straightened up.
“I’m so sorry, Bitsy,” Mrs. Jameson said. “I … it’s so hard when these things happen.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
The trill of three bells announced the beginning of the play. I carefully peered through a gap in the curtain, near the wall. With the lights completely dark, it was hard to tell just who was in the audience. My gaze fell on two empty chairs at the front—and a familiar head of red hair.
Jade.
I opened my mouth to call after Lizzy but hesitated. Would it distract her? What if Daniel still didn’t show up?
Before I could let her know, the first group of mermaids danced onto the stage. A parent spoke quietly to Lizzy, pointed to a spot onstage, and gave her an encouraging shoulder squeeze. Lizzy drew in a deep breath, nodded at something Lana said, and walked on. I held my breath.