Tara Quinn - A Child's Wish

“I like me.” She finally said it. And stood there shocked. She’d never said that before; never consciously thought about it. She’d never known it.

But it was true.

Life was good.

“HEY, DADDY.”

Mark glanced up from the bathroom sink on Monday morning to meet his daughter’s sweet brown eyes in the mirror. She was wearing hip-hugger jeans that were getting a little too short, along with hiking shoes and a beige long-sleeved sweater. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail that was decidedly crooked. His heart caught—how he loved this kid. “Hey, Kelse.”

She boosted herself onto the second sink, watching as her father scraped another row of shaving cream from his cheek.

“I fed Gilda.”

“Good girl. Thanks,” he said, while he rinsed the razor. “What do you want for breakfast? Cream of wheat or pancakes?”

She scrunched her chin for a moment. “There’s more dishes from pancakes, so cream of wheat.”

Mark stopped, razor halfway to his face, and grinned at her. “What do the dishes matter?” he asked. “You don’t do them alone.”

“I know.” Her voice was light. Her gaze followed his hand from sink to face and back again—just as it had done most of the mornings of her life. This ritual was one of the best parts of his day.

Before Kelsey, Mark used to shave in the nude. Since his daughter’s birth, however, he’d always had slacks waiting by the shower so he’d be ready to run if she called.

“I forgot to tell you, Lucy’s mom called and invited you over to play with Lucy after school Friday. I can pick you up on my way home, or you can spend the night and I can get you Saturday morning.”

“No, thank you.” The heel of Kelsey’s shoe kicked lightly against the cupboard as she swung her leg. Mark considered telling her to stop. But the wood was dark enough that scuffs wouldn’t show. And anyway, what showed could be cleaned.

“What?” he asked when he realized what she’d said, all thoughts of wood and scuff marks leaving his mind. “You love going to Lucy’s! And you haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks.”

Lucy and Kelsey had gone through preschool and kindergarten together before the other girl’s family had moved across town.

“I know. I just don’t want to this Friday, Daddy.” Those soft, dark eyes glanced up at him. “Do I have to?”

“No, Kelse, of course you don’t. But can you tell me why you don’t want to?” He dried his razor and put it back inside the cabinet. “Did something happen the last time you were there?”

“No.”

“Did you and Lucy have a fight?”

“No.”

“Was her mom or dad mean to you?”

“No.”

Something wasn’t right. “Then what?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. I just don’t want to.”

Short of calling his daughter a liar, which wouldn’t get the desired results anyway, Mark was going to have to leave it at that.

He didn’t like it.

“Turn around, sweetie. Let’s fix that ponytail,” he said, tugging gently on the beige-and-blue holder she’d chosen and sliding it down the silky length of her hair. Her mother’s hair.

“I’ll call Lucy’s mom first thing this morning,” he said, compelled at least to try one more time. “If you’re sure that’s what you really want.”

She nodded, helping him create another crooked ponytail.

“HELLO?”

“Hi, Mom. It’s me.” Meredith held the cell phone against her ear with one shoulder while she unwrapped a granola bar, which—with a glass of Diet Coke—would be her breakfast.

“Meri, hi!”

Meredith’s mood sank. Too much exuberance. She’d been right to follow her impulse to call. Something was wrong.

She had to leave in five minutes if she was going to get to class before her kids started to arrive. And with third-graders, that was always a good idea.

“I was feeling a little uneasy about you this morning,” she said, holding her unwrapped breakfast in one hand as she put down her drink long enough to haul her school bag up onto her shoulder. The big green M&M emblazoned on the black patent leather was facing out.

“I went out to go to bridge club last night and my tire was flat,” she said. Evelyn Foster, a retired scientist and executive from Phillip’s Petroleum, lived in a nice condominium in Florida in an active-living adult community.

“Did you call road service?” Drink back in hand, Meredith headed for the door. “You got that extended warranty.”

“I know. I called and they’re coming out first thing this morning.”

Hmm. Then…

“Nope, I still feel uneasy. Come on, Mom, I’m late. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Evelyn chuckled. “You know how hard it is having a kid you can’t keep things from?” she asked.

Meredith’s tension eased, but only slightly. “Your kid’s all grown up, Mom. You don’t need to hide things. Come on, what gives?”

She was in her car—a Mustang convertible, which she never drove with the top down.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Evelyn said, drawing out the words in a way that told her they were a lie. “I have to go in for a liver biopsy in the morning.”

Her tires squealed and Meredith stopped fifty feet short of the sign at the end of her block. “What?” A quick, automatic glance in the mirror assured her no one was behind her on the dead-end street.

“I had my annual physical last week and the blood work raised a few questions.”

“What’s the worst case scenario?”

“Cancer, cirrhosis of the liver, maybe hepatitis….”

Meredith dropped her granola bar onto the car’s console next to her drink. Stared out the windshield, registering nothing—focusing. Feeling.

Her widowed mother. Alone in Florida—except for the many friends she’d made. Kind. Sixty-one. Active.

Alive. Very alive.

Meredith nodded. She stared again, barely aware of a horn honking behind her, a car speeding around her.

And then, blinking, she picked up her granola bar, stepped on the gas and turned onto the road that would take her to school.

“It’s going to be okay, Mom,” she said.

“It is?”

She found it hard to listen to the fear in her mother’s voice. All her life Evelyn had been Meredith’s strength. Sometimes her only strength. Meredith didn’t want to think about her mother getting older. Failing.

“Yes,” she told her, grinning over her own relief as much as for the relief she felt for her mom.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Meredith told her, eating half the bar in two bites. “But you feel fine to me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I knew it wasn’t serious,” Evelyn said brusquely. Then she added, “I love you, Meri.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

“Be safe.”

“You, too.”

Meredith clicked the phone shut and took a long swig of soda. She was tired and the day had hardly begun.

“SUSAN INVITED US over to her house for dinner tonight. You want to go?” Mark had been working up to the question most of the morning and now they were almost at school.

His daughter, ponytail centered on her head after a third try, turned away. “No.”

He could barely hear the words aimed at the passenger window, but her slumped posture said enough and his mood slipped a notch.

“How come? She’s going to make chicken alfredo. You loved her alfredo, remember?”

“I just don’t wanna.”

“But Monday night’s our night to have dinner with Susan.”

“It’s your night, not mine,” Kelsey said. “I never said I wanted to.”

This was going from bad to worse.

“Talk to me, Kelse,” Mark said, taking the long way to school. “Why don’t you like Susan? Do you resent the time I spend with her?”