Heading downstairs, I grabbed my bag and coat, ignoring the pile of unpaid bills on the counter and the pans of lasagna from neighbors we barely knew.
Katie hesitated in the doorway, glancing down the hall, as if hoping, if only for an impossible moment, that Keith would appear and hold her in his arms.
The ride to school was silent. The radio was playing one of Keith's favorite songs at a low volume.
I kept my eyes fixed on the road, blinking back tears when I caught sight of Katie's reflection in the window, her lips moving as she mimed the lyrics to the song.
Outside the elementary school, the parking lot was crowded. Cars were lined up on the sidewalk, and groups of fathers were standing in the cold, laughing and lifting their daughters into the air.
Their happiness seemed almost cruel to me. I squeezed Katie's hand.
“Hello?” I asked in a faint voice.
“I think so, Mom.”
Inside, the gym was a riot of color: streamers, pink and silver balloons, a photo corner filled with fun accessories. Pop music blared through the walls. Fathers and daughters twirled beneath a disco ball, their shoes glowing.
Katie slowed down as soon as we entered.
“Do you see any of your friends?” I asked, scanning the room.
“They’re all busy with their dads.”
We moved along the edge of the dance floor, staying close to the wall. Every few steps, people glanced at us: at my simple black dress and Katie's overly cheeky smile.
Molly, a classmate of Katie's, greeted us from across the room as her father twirled her awkwardly into a waltz. "Hi, Katie!" she exclaimed. Her father gave us a quick, polite nod.
Katie smiled but didn't move.
We found a spot near the carpets. I sat down, and Katie curled up next to me, her knees bent, her badge reflecting the colored lights.
She stared out at the dance floor, her eyes shining with hope. But when a slow song began, the weight of missing Keith seemed to weigh her down even more.
“Mom?” he whispered. “Maybe… maybe we should go home?”
That almost broke my heart. I took her hand, squeezing it until my knuckles hurt. “Let's rest for a moment, my love,” I said.
Just then, a group of mothers rushed by, their scent wafting through the air. Leading the way was Cassidy, the queen of the parent committee, looking perfect as ever.
He noticed us and stopped, with a sweet expression that seemed to be one of compassion.
"Poor thing," she said, barely audible to the others. "Full-family events are always difficult for children from... well, you know. Incomplete families."
I stiffened, feeling my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
CONTINUE READING…>>
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