“Oh no. Why?”
Rose ran back in with a load of toys. She dumped them onthe table. I marshaled them in line, grateful to keep my hands occupied.
“There was trouble with a parent. A complaint. Sarah—my boss—says I can probably have my job back in the fall, but they boxed up my bookshelves. My library. I don’t know if I want to stay if I’m going to be censored in the classroom. If the administration doesn’t have my back.”
“Of course you don’t.”
I blinked at her.
Daanis smiled. “Why would you stay someplace where they don’t appreciate you?”
It was as if she’d put her finger right on my problem, like pressing on my heart or poking a bruise. My eyes prickled with sudden tears.
“He said he didn’t want to bother me—Chris did,” I blurted. “And I want to support him. I do. But it feels like he wasn’t thinking about me at all. Not as a partner. Not as an equal. He expects me to go wherever he wants, whenever he needs to go. And I can’t. I won’t give up my dreams for him the way…” I slapped my fingers over my mouth.Too late.
“The way I did for Zack,” Daanis finished quietly.
I felt awful. “No.”Yes.“I…Zack is wonderful. I’m sure you’re very happy, I just—”
“Did I hear my name?”
Rose scrambled from her chair. “Daddy!”
Zack scooped her up. “Hey, baby. Babe.” He kissed Daanis before he spotted me over her shoulder, hot-faced at his kitchen table. “Anne. Here to eat?”
“I can’t stay. I…” My mind spun.What?“Promised Mom I’d get dinner started tonight.”
Daanis met his gaze, some marital message flashing back and forth. I watched him receive her invisible signal, communicating in silent code the way she and I used to do. Longing unfurled inside me. I wanted that easy connection, that sense of belonging, that feeling of being part of a team.
“Right,” Zack said, boosting Rose in his arms. “Come on, short stuff. Let’s clean up the living room.”
“Daanis, I’m so sorry,” I babbled after they left. “I’m a terrible friend. I didn’t mean—”
“I think you did,” Daanis said with dignity. “You always thought I gave up my dreams to do what Zack wanted. But, Anne, Ilikeworking at the gallery with my parents. This life, this family, are all I ever wanted. I think you’re still hurt because I didn’t do whatyouwanted.”
I was shaken. Humbled. Stricken.
“I am sorry, Daanis. I just…I feel so…” My throat clogged.
“Sad,” she suggested.
“Lost,” I whispered.
Her dark eyes softened. Wordlessly, she put down her spoon to wrap me in a hug. I closed my eyes and hugged her back.
“I love the way you always had a plan for everything,” Daanis said. “But maybe you should focus on what you want now, instead of what you wish other people would do.”
—
Focus.
On what I want.
Because my life was not going according to plan. Because of Covid. Because of Chris. Because of my father’s death.Because of…me. Time to grow up. Get organized. Be productive.
Starting with dinner.
I jerked open the refrigerator. My gaze fell on a package of chicken. I could cook chicken. I opened my phone and googled it, just to be safe, and there it was, Perfectly Roasted Chicken Breasts. I tore into the plastic and realized I had a package of thighs, not breasts. And I didn’t have parchment paper or any of the dry rubs the website recommended. But I had salt and pepper. Butter. An oven. I punched in the temperature and slid the pan inside. Done.
