Family For Beginners

“You’ll find a way.” She was instantly embarrassed. “Sorry. That sounded trite. Like one of those self-help quotes that pop up on the internet. Live your best life.” The fact that he smiled felt like an achievement.

“I hate those quotes. Especially the ones that tell you to dance in the rain.”

“I love dancing in the rain.” Better than dancing in her apartment, where her elbows knocked against the walls and her neighbors complained about the noise.

His gaze held hers and again there was that feeling of warmth. “Do you get a lunch break? Would you join me for something to eat? Or a coffee?”

Her heart woke up. Was he asking her on a date?

“Well—”

“You’re wondering if I’m a crazed serial killer. I’m not. But you’re the first person I’ve talked to in a long time who seems to understand.”

She saw that his eyes were green, not blue. And she saw that he looked tired. Maybe he was aware of that, because he gave a faint smile and she found herself smiling back. The brief moment of connection shocked her. It was the closest she’d been to experiencing intimacy with another person in a long time. Ironic, she thought, that it was with a stranger.

“I don’t think you’re crazed, and I don’t think you’re a serial killer.”

“I asked you for coffee because you’re easy to talk to.” The focus of his gaze shifted somewhere behind her. “I’m assuming that scary-looking woman glaring at me is your boss?”

Flora didn’t even need to look. “Yes.”

“In which case I’m going to get you fired if I stand here talking any longer. I don’t want that on my conscience. Thank you for listening, Flora. And thank you for the advice.”

He was handling two traumatized girls by himself. Wounded. Hurting.

Who looked after him? Did he have no one supporting him?

He’d lost his wife, who’d clearly been perfect in every way. Becca. It seemed deeply unfair that people who had managed to find each other in this busy, complex world, should then lose each other. Maybe that was worse than never finding someone in the first place.

She shouldn’t get involved. Coffee and conversation wasn’t going to fix anything.

But who could say no to a single father who was desperately trying to do the right thing by his daughters?

Not her.

“I could do coffee,” she said. “I get a break in an hour.”

2

Izzy

“You’re bringing someone to dinner? You’re dating?

You have to be kidding me. It’s not even been a year since Mom died, and you’ve already forgotten her.” Izzy stopped folding laundry and clamped her mouth shut. Had she really said that aloud? Guilt washed over her. She’d done so well holding it all together, but now her dad had opened a door she’d kept closed. His words had released all the rubbish she’d been hiding inside, like the cupboard holding all of Molly’s toys. Izzy could barely close the door. And now her hands were shaking and misery covered her like a film of sweat. Her body had felt weird, as if she was inhabiting someone else’s skin that didn’t quite fit. She had dizzy spells, moments when she felt oddly detached, panicky flashes when she thought she might totally flip out in public and humiliate herself. At the beginning people were constantly checking she was okay. How are you doing, Izzy? And she’d always answer that she was fine. Apparently they’d believed her, and their comments had shifted to You’re totally amazing. Your mom would be so proud of how you’re handling this. If grief was a test, then apparently she’d got a good grade. She’d even felt proud of herself on occasion, an emotion that was way too complicated for her brain. Was surviving something to be proud of?

Gradually people had stopped tiptoeing around her and gone back to their normal selves and their normal lives. People rarely mentioned it now. She’d thought that might be easier, but it turned out it wasn’t. They’d moved on, but she hadn’t. Her life had been shredded and she was still trying to stitch the fragments together alone with fingers that were raw and bleeding. Whatever she did there was no patching over the fact that there was a big mother-shaped hole in her life. She was trying hard to fill it for her dad’s sake, but mostly for Molly’s sake.

Had her father given any thought to the impact dating would have on Molly?

How could he do this? She didn’t understand love. What exactly was its worth if it didn’t even leave a mark? If you could move so easily from one person to another?

She knew she should probably be pleased for him, but she couldn’t summon that emotion. If he moved on, where did that leave them as a family? Where did it leave her?

The sound around her faded and she could hear the blood pulsing through her ears.

She felt lost and panicky.

Maybe this relationship wasn’t serious. She wanted to whip out her phone and type “grief and rebound rel