Chapter 9
I chose a small birthday party.
No balloons covering every doorway. No guests I barely knew because adults wanted to impress each other.
I wanted Tyler, two friends from school, Aunt June, and Dad.
Then, after thinking about it for a week, I added Lily and Mason.
Dad asked, “Are you sure?”
“I want them there.”
“That’s enough.”
Before the party, the last part of the financial case was resolved.
Claire had admitted the unauthorized withdrawals. The outcome required repayment and included court supervision connected to the financial offense. Dad explained only what I needed to know.
“The money is being restored,” he said. “There are rules she has to follow. You don’t need to manage any of it.”
“Will Lily and Mason be okay?”
“They have Aaron and Dana. Their needs are being taken care of.”
I nodded.
I did not feel happy about Claire facing consequences.
I felt lighter knowing she could no longer describe the missing money as something I had imagined.
Dad’s divorce was finalized that spring.
He came home carrying a folder and a bag of groceries.
“Pasta?” he asked.
“Are you okay?”
He placed the groceries on the counter.
“I’m sad about how things turned out. I’m also glad we’re safe and able to move forward.”
“Do you wish I hadn’t told you?”
He turned fully toward me.
“Never.”
I needed that answer even after hearing it before.
At school, I joined the art club.
We were asked to draw a place where we felt comfortable. I drew our kitchen table.
At first, I thought that was strange. The dining room had been the place where my birthday hurt most.
But our kitchen table was different now.
Dad and I ate there. June brought desserts. Lily did homework during visits. Mason sat with me while we built a model bridge for school.
I drew every chair.
Ms. Parker saw it on the hallway display.
“That looks like a good place,” she said.
“It is.”
I meant it.
One Saturday, Dad and I went through Mom’s wooden box again.
This time, it was not because something was missing.
We made a small album of pictures I could keep in my room. Dad told stories about her that made me laugh.
She once tried to cut his hair and left one side shorter than the other.
She danced in the grocery store if a song she liked came on.
She cried at the end of a cartoon about a lost dog.
“Did she cry easily?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Was she difficult?”
Dad looked at me.
“No. She felt things deeply. That was one of the things I loved about her.”
I sat with that for a long time.
Before my birthday, Mason asked to meet me at the park.
He brought nothing this time.
No bag of returned things. No object to stand between us.
“I wanted to apologize properly,” he said.
“You have.”
“Not for everything.”
I waited.
“I knew Mom treated you differently. I liked being the one who got things. Sometimes I helped because I thought it made her proud of me.”
He stared at his hands.
“That was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not asking you to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Good.”
He nodded.
“I want to be better now.”
“You have been.”
His head lifted.
“You think so?”
“You ask before using my stuff. You gave things back. You don’t tell me I’m keeping score.”
“I don’t want to be like that.”
I looked toward the basketball court.
“Come to my party.”
“I was going to.”
“Yeah. But I mean I want you there.”
He smiled a little.
For the first time, it felt like we were choosing what kind of family we might become instead of accepting the one Claire described.
The night before my birthday, Dad took a cake out of the refrigerator.
Chocolate.
Blue frosting.
ETHAN written across the top.
My chest tightened.
He noticed.
“We can change it.”
I touched the edge of the box.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“I still like chocolate.”
He smiled.
“We’ll put your piece aside before anyone gets seconds.”
“You don’t have to hide it.”
“I won’t.”
I looked at the cake.
Last year, I waited because I believed everyone else knew when I deserved something.
May you like
This year, I could ask.
And if someone forgot, I knew Dad would listen.
