Betsy was the second one across the finish line. Afterward, she bent over, breathing hard, and then she looked up into the stands. She was beaming, her smile triumphant as she looked up at her family.
Slowly, her smile faded. She saw that Michael wasn’t there.
Then she ran off to be with her team.
Jolene sank slowly back onto the bleacher seat. She knew what it was like to need a parent’s attention and be denied, how much that hurt. She had never wanted her children to know that pain. She knew she was overreacting—it was just a track meet, after all—but it was the start. How long would Betsy remember this, be wounded by it? And how easily could Michael have made a different choice?
There was another race—the 220—and Betsy gave it her all, but her sense of triumph was gone; so was her smile. She came in fourth. After that, the races went on and on, and Lulu kept running back and forth in the bleachers, but the three adults just sat there.
“I don’t understand it,” Mila said at last. “I reminded him twice.”
“I saw your twice and doubled it,” Tami said. “The only way he could legitimately have forgotten was if he had a brain tumor. Sorry, Miz Z, I’m just saying…”
“He is like his father in this,” Mila said. “I begged Theo to come to Michael’s school functions, but he was always working. Their jobs are important.”
“So is the family,” Jolene said quietly.
Mila sighed. “Yes. This I told his father, too.”
Lulu twirled in front of Jolene, banging into the seat. Her eyes sparkled in that I’m-either-going-to-scream-or-fall-asleep-any-second kind of way.
When the meet ended at five fifteen, Jolene took Lulu’s small hand in hers and stood. “Well. Let’s go.”
They made their way down the bleacher steps and onto the field, where athletes from both schools milled around.
“There she is,” Lulu said, pointing to Betsy, who stood alone, beneath the football goalpost.
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.”