Jolene pulled Betsy into a fierce hug. “I am so proud of you. ”
“Second place. Big deal,” Betsy said, pulling back.
Jolene could see the hurt turning into a brittle shell of anger. That seemed to be Betsy’s modus operandi these days—any sharp emotion turned into anger.
“I have never seen such running, kardia mou. You were like the wind. ”
Betsy didn’t even try to smile. “Thanks, Yia Yia. ”
“How about if we go out for pizza and ice cream?” Mila suggested, clapping her hands together.
“Sure,” Betsy said glumly.
They walked out together. It was obvious to Jolene—and certainly to Betsy—that everyone was trying to talk at once, hoping to mask Michael’s absence. For the next hour, they pretended, laughing a little too loudly, making jokes that weren’t funny. Jolene lost track of the times someone told Betsy how amazing she had been. The words hit her daughter’s brittle wall, failing to evoke even a small smile. There was an empty seat at the table and all of them felt it keenly.
By the time they left the restaurant and drove home, Jolene was as mad at Michael as she’d ever been.
He could disappoint her—hell, she was an adult, she could take it. But she wouldn’t let him break their daughter’s heart.
Mila was the only one who addressed the white elephant in the car with them. At her house, before she got out of the car, she turned to Betsy and said, “Your father wanted to be here today. I know he did. ”
“Big deal,” Betsy said.
Mila seemed to consider a response to that, but, instead of saying anything, she smiled sadly, unhooked her seat belt, and got out of the car.
At home, Jolene parked in the garage and unhooked Lulu’s car seat.
“Where’s Daddy?” Lulu said sleepily.
“He was too busy to come,” Betsy said sharply. “Not that I care. ” On that, she slammed the car door shut and ran into the house.
Jolene pulled Lulu into her arms and carried her up the stairs. She readied her youngest for bed, read her a story, and tucked her in. Lulu was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Then she went to Betsy’s room, knocked on the door, and went inside.
Betsy was already in bed, her pimply face pink from scrubbing. Her blue and gold tracksuit was a tangled heap on the floor. The red ribbon she’d won lay on the nightstand.
Jolene got into bed beside her. Betsy eased sideways to make room and then leaned against her.
“What’s his excuse this time?”
What could Jolene say? That Michael’s work ethic and sense of duty sometimes trumped his family? She could hardly fault him for that: it was one of the things they shared. And he’d learned it from his father. The Zarkades men could disappoint their wives and children, but they never let down a client. “Ah, baby … sometimes we have to forgive the people we love. That’s all there is to it. And you know how important his work is. People’s lives depend on him. ”
“I don’t care anyway,” Betsy said, but her eyes filled with tears.
Jolene held Betsy close. “Of course you care. You’re mad at him, and you have a right to be. But he loves you, Betsy. ”
“Whatever. ”
“You pretty much rocked today, you know that, right?”
She felt Betsy relax a little. “I sort of did. ”
They lay there for a long time, saying nothing of importance. Finally, Jolene kissed her daughter’s temple, said good night, and went downstairs.
She sat on the cold brick hearth, with the black, empty fireplace behind her, and stared down at her hands. In her mind, she yelled at Michael, railed at him for disappointing their daughter.
This time, she’d say it all. She’d get his attention and make him understand that there were moments in life that could simply be lost. Too many and a relationship could founder.