“You have practice.”
“I’ll ride with you.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know you are.”
She narrows her eyes at me.
Lucy is looking in her backpack, oblivious.
Scotti glances at me in the rearview mirror like she’s watching a match she does not want to referee.
“I just want to be there,” I say more quietly, so Lucy cannot hear. “For both of you.”
Hildy’s chin lifts slightly. “Lenzin, I’m okay.”
And there it is, that independence.
I force myself to soften.
“I’m not questioning that,” I say.
“Then don’t make it look like you are.”
It hits harder than it should. Because she is right. Because I have a habit of stepping in before I am asked.
I lean back in the seat. “Okay. You lead.”
Her shoulders ease just slightly.
We pull up to The Bears daycare and early learning center drop off early.
Lucy grips both our hands as we walk toward the door. “I need to take photos of you and Mom, and then just you.”
“And you?” she asks.
I glance at Hildy, who smiles, “Of course.
“This is it,” Lucy whispers like she is entering a championship arena as I swipe and open the first set of doors.
“It’s going to be amazing.” Hildy smiles as we continue.
Once inside, her teacher squats down, with a warm smile and a steady voice, “We are so excited to have you join us.”
Lucy looks up at Hildy first.
Hildy brushes her hair back. “You’re going to love it.”
Lucy hesitates one second longer, then lets go of her hand, and then gives me the same look.
Fuck, this sucks.“See you at the end of the day, my little scholar.”
Hildy keeps smiling until Lucy disappears into the classroom, and I attempt to follow suit.
The second the door shuts, her composure cracks. Not dramatically. Just a blink too long. A breath too sharp.
“She’s ready,” I say quietly.
