Chapter 10
The next birthday began with Lily knocking on my bedroom door before sunrise.
“I’m eight,” she announced.
I opened one eye.
“That happened fast.”
“It took a whole year.”
She climbed onto the bed with her bear. The bear’s fur had worn thin around one ear, and Lily insisted he preferred it that way.
“Are you nervous about the party?” I asked.
“A little.”
We had planned a small afternoon gathering in our backyard. Lily had chosen the guests herself. She wanted Ava, four classmates, our family, and Mrs. Alvarez, who had known Claire since college.
“No surprises this time,” Lily said.
“No surprises.”
She thought for a moment.
“Except the cake. I don’t know what it looks like.”
“That’s a permitted surprise.”
By noon, streamers hung between the porch posts. Michael arrived with the toy horse stable, now painted red. Dad carried extra chairs out of the garage. Mom brought fruit and asked Lily where she wanted it.
Lily chose the table herself.
She placed one chair beside hers for Ava and another for her bear.
When the doorbell rang, she froze.
I watched her take a breath.
“I can get it,” she said.
Ava was on the porch holding a present wrapped in yellow paper. Behind her stood her mother and little brother. Lily opened the door wide.
“You came!”
Ava gave her a puzzled look.
“Obviously. I made you a card.”
I saw Lily smile at the word.
The others arrived soon after. One classmate brought a book, another brought a crooked bracelet she had made. Mrs. Alvarez hugged Lily and told her she had Claire’s laugh. Lily asked to hear a story about her mother later.
“I have at least ten,” Mrs. Alvarez promised.
The party was loud, messy, and ordinary. Children ran through the yard. Someone spilled lemonade. The red stable became a home for three horses and a plastic dinosaur.
I kept looking at Lily.
When she needed a break, she came to stand beside me.
“I’m having fun,” she said.
“I can see that.”
“I wanted you to know.”
I put my arm around her shoulders.
After the games, I brought out the cake. Eight candles flickered above blue icing. Lily pulled her chair close to the table, but she didn’t sit alone. Ava stood at one side, Michael at the other. Mom and Dad joined us, and Mrs. Alvarez raised her phone to take a picture.
We sang.
I saw Lily glance around the circle while everyone said her name.
When the song ended, she did not blow out the candles right away.
“What are you waiting for?” Ava asked.
“My wish.”
Lily closed her eyes. She took her time. Then she blew, and all eight flames went out.
Everyone cheered.
Later, while the children opened gifts, Michael brought me a plate of cake.
“The last repayment came through,” he said quietly.
I looked at him.
“All of it?”
“Yes. My attorney confirmed it this morning.”
“That’s good news.”
“It is. I wanted you to know before I went back to painting dinosaurs.”
I hugged him. We had lost time as brothers, but he was here. He had done the hard work of earning Lily’s trust again, one visit at a time.
When the guests left, the yard was scattered with napkins and bits of ribbon. Lily helped me pick them up until I told her she had done enough.
“I want to help,” she said. “It was my party.”
We carried the last cups inside together.
That night, she asked if I would sit with her for a while. I took the chair beside her bed. She set the bear between us and handed me the card Ava had made.
Inside was a drawing of two girls beneath a bright yellow sun.
“She wrote that I’m her best friend,” Lily said.
“She did.”
“Last year, I thought I didn’t have any.”
I waited.
“I know she was wrong now.”
“Yes,” I said. “She was.”
Lily leaned against my shoulder.
“I knew before the party today. I just liked seeing everyone here.”
I wrapped an arm around her. Downstairs, Mom and Dad were washing dishes, and Michael was laughing at something Mrs. Alvarez had said on her way out. Their voices reached us through the open door.
Lily listened too.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Next year, can I invite everybody again?”
“Of course.”
“And can Grandpa bring the funny-shaped tomatoes?”
“If he can grow them.”
She giggled. Then her eyes grew heavy.
I stayed until she fell asleep, safe in her bed with her bear beside her. On the nightstand sat eight cards from people who loved her. The house was full of their voices.
Before I turned out the light, Lily stirred and found my hand.
“I had a really good birthday,” she murmured.
May you like
“So did I,” I said.
She held on for another moment, then let go and slept.
