THE AUDUBON AQUARIUMof the Americas is right along the Mississippi riverfront. We watch a towboat push a dozen barges upstream, then Lily grabs Zack’s hand. “I can’t wait to see the penguins!” She tugs us toward the building. “They’re on the second floor. An’ that’s where they have the birds you can feed, too. But first we’ll go by the sharks an’ the turtles.”
“You really know your way around this place,” I say. I’m trying my best to interact with Lily. Quinn asked me lots of questions about my work on the drive over—I’m sure she was trying to help me feel included, which I appreciate—but all of Lily’s comments were aimed at Zack or Quinn.
“Lily’s mom had an annual membership here,” Zack tells me as we walk inside.
“Yeah,” Lily says, once again grabbing his hand. “An’ we had mem’erships to the zoo and the bug place, too. For all the Au-bu-don places.”
“It’s pronounced Au-du-bon,” Quinn gently corrects. “But it’s great that you know the name.”
Lily nods. “An’ I know they’re named after a famous man who knew all ’bout birds an’ painted bootiful pictures of them.”
I smile. “You’re a very smart little girl.”
“Thank you,” Lily says. “Grams says I’m jus’ like Mommy.”
“Yes, you are. And your mommy was very, very smart.” Quinn smiles over at Zack. “Your daddy’s no dummy, either.”
It’s small and petty of me, I know—but I feel left out and a little competitive.I’maccustomed to being acknowledged as the smart one.
“Daddy saved Grams’s life. Did you know that?” Lily asks me.
My throat knots at the wordDaddy. I curl my fingernails into my palm, hard. “Yes, I heard about it.”
We’ve been strolling to the right, and we’re now in front of the Gulf of Mexico exhibit. I want to walk beside Zack and hold his hand, but Lily is already doing that. They stop in front of an enormous aquarium featuring a scaled-down offshore oil rig. Sharks, schools of fish, and stingrays swim by both overhead and at eye level.
“Ooh, look!” Lily points. “A turtle! Like Franklin!”
“Who’s Franklin?” I ask.
“He’s prob’bly the mos’ famous turtle in the whole world,” Lily says. “He’s got lots of books written ’bout him.”
“What about Yertle?” Zack asks.
Lily ponders this for a moment. “Yertle’s famous, too, but not as famous as Franklin. There’s only one Yertle book. An’ this turtle looks like Franklin ’cause he has a fat head.”
Quinn and Zack exchange a gaze and laugh. I feel like a complete outsider. When did Zack learn so much about children’s literature? When did he learn so much about children, period?
“Come on, Daddy! I wanna show you the penguins.” Lily tugs Zack’s hand and pulls him toward the stairs.
Quinn and I follow behind.
“Have you been to the aquarium before?” Quinn asks me.
“A few times,” I say. “Zack and I came here once, and I’ve attended a couple of after-hours events.”
“It’s a gorgeous venue for a reception or a banquet,” Quinn says, “but there’s nothing like experiencing it with a child.”
“That’s true of life in general, isn’t it?”
Her smile is warm and genuine. “Absolutely!”
We take the bend of the stairs in silence. “Lily is adorable,” I say.
“She is, isn’t she?”
“You and her mother must have been really close.”
She nods. “I can’t believe how much I miss her.”
