“Can I get a yellow one for Aristurtle?” She tugged on one of the helium-filled balloons.
Aristurtle was Lily’s pet tortoise, who had remained nameless until Goma started calling him that because of all the grand questions Lily consulted him on.
“What is Aristurtle going to do with a balloon?” asked Jack.
“You know how he’s always getting lost?”
“Because you let him roam all around the house.”
“Because I don’t like caging him in. So, if I tie a balloon around his shell, we’ll always know where he is.”
“You know, that is so absurd, it makes sense.” Jack laughed and pulled out his wallet. “We’ll take a yellow one.”
“Sorry, they’re six in a bouquet,” the man replied. “I have other singles, but I’m all out of the yellow ones.” He gave them a curious glance, but Jack was used to it. It had started when he and Sarah were dating, and had continued after they’d had Lily. A mixed-race couple with a biracial daughter. The contrast seemed to fascinate people.
Jack glanced at Lily. Her eyes were fixed on the bright, sunny ones. “Fine. I’ll take all six.”
As he bent down to give her the balloons, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “I love you! You’re the best daddy ever!”
A flurry of strangers milled around them, but Jack was hit with a sweet stillness in that moment, a surge of warmth and purpose in the middle of an ordinary day.
“Don’t tie them to Aristurtle all at once or he’ll fly away,” he said.
Lily giggled and broke away, taking the escalator down, the balloons bobbing around her like golden sunburst.
“Lily!” her dance instructor called, when they got to the recital hall. “You look great!”
“It’s a rainbow.” Lily twirled around, showing off the tutu that Goma had made. “My favorite.”
“It’s perfect.” Her instructor turned to Jack and smiled. “Hello, Jack.”
“Miss Temu.” He nodded, instinctively taking in her lithe dancer’s body and smooth cocoa-powder skin.
“It’s Mara,” she corrected, as she had done many times before. She had made her interest in him clear, but Jack knew better than to mess with the dynamics of his daughter’s dance class. In a room full of mothers, he was the only father who showed up with his child. They fawned over him, not just because Jack was a powder keg of testosterone—his voice, his hands, his gestures—but also because of how playful and nurturing he was with Lily. It drew them to him, and Jack had learned not to stir up any jealousies by keeping all his attention on Lily.
“Set up is this way.” Miss Temu started ushering Lily to the back.
“Here, Daddy!” Lily handed him the balloons. “How do I look?”
“Beautiful. As always.”
“Is my ponytail okay?”
Jack knelt and adjusted it. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and wiped a smudge of chocolate from her cheek. “There. All good?”
“All good!” She nodded, barely able to contain her excitement at going up on stage. “Sit in the front row so I can find you, okay?”
“I know the drill, Lily. Have I ever failed you?”
“Don’t forget to record it!”
“Go.” Jack laughed. “Dance up a storm.”
Lily took a deep breath and smiled. “See you on the other side.”
“See you on the other side, baby girl.” He watched her disappear behind the curtains.
“Jack . . .” Miss Temu tapped him on the shoulder. “The balloons. They’re kind of distracting. Would you mind putting them away?”
