I don’t miss him much. My dad.
The door flies open, and Gracie’s standing there, grinning like she’s been waiting all day.
“Beck! You’re here!”
That’s one of the things I like most about her. She acts like seeing me is the best part of her whole day. With Gracie, nothing is small. Everything is bright and loud and important.
A beautiful woman with the same auburn hair and green eyes as her daughter steps into view, already shaking her head. “Gracie, I told you not to open the door. What if it was a stranger?”
“But it’s not,” Gracie says, pointing at me like I’m proof of something. “It’s Beck.”
Her mom sighs and rolls her eyes, smiling despite herself. She turns to Mama and holds out her hand. “Don’t mind her. She’s eight going on eighteen. I’m Marie.”
Mama shakes her hand, eyes fixed on the floor.
“Do you want me to drop him off?” Mama asks, gesturing at me. She’d worried about that the whole drive over, whether she was supposed to leave or stay.
Marie studies her for a moment, head tilted. “Why don’t you come in too, Suzy? I’ve got coffee. Or a bottle of wine.”
Mama looks up at that. She likes wine. But it’s been too much of a luxury since Dad left.
The moms head inside while Gracie grabs my hand and drags me down the hall. Her bedroom is pink and messy, clothes and dolls everywhere. She’s got puzzles too. Hot Wheels. Hungry Hungry Hippo. We play all of it while our moms sit on the couch, talking quietly, glasses clinking now and then.
“This is my favorite toy,” Gracie says hours later. “Mom only lets me use it here in the kitchen because it makes a mess.”
She pulls over a chair, climbs up with my help, and grabs a box from a high cupboard.Complete Science Kit,the box says in big red letters.
“It’s got experiments and test tubes and p—pi—piettes.”
“What’s a pip-pip—?” I stop. That word’s too hard.
“It’s a fancy eye dropper,” she says, like that clears everything up.
She clears space on the kitchen counter and dumps the supplies out. I notice it’s dark outside, past dinnertime. Mama usually calls for me by now.
Weird.
I peek around the corner.
Mama’s laughing.
Not the polite kind. Real laughing. Her cheeks are pink. Her shoulders aren’t pulled up around her ears like usual. There’s wine in front of her, but her eyes are clear. She’s not drunk like Dad used to get with Jack Daniels.
She looks…happy.
For the first time in years, Mama looks happy.
Marie’s laughing too. They lean toward each other when they talk, like they’re sharing secrets. Like people do when they’ve both been through the same kind of hard and are glad they can finally explain it out loud.
I stare, afraid that if I blink it might disappear.
“Come on, Beck,” Gracie whispers behind me. “What’re you doing?”
“Look,” I whisper back.
We spy together.
“Wow,” Gracie says quietly. “I haven’t seen Mom smile like that since Sean left.”
