CHAPTER 21: THE BIRTHDAY AFTER
Nearly a year after the party, June and I celebrated her eleventh birthday in our own backyard. There were no chandeliers or expensive speeches. My parents hung paper stars from the trees. June invited six friends, and together they built cardboard rockets that mostly flew sideways. Oliver was not there; the adults were still working through how and whether the children might meet in a way that respected their needs. I had stopped imagining that every problem needed an immediate resolution. Some things required time, boundaries, and careful listening. June asked for a telescope instead of jewelry or a party dress. We set it up after sunset. She found the moon first, then called me over. Through the eyepiece I saw a pale circle crossed with shadow. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered. “I know,” she said, grinning. I thought of the ballroom, the USB drive, and the moment my husband had announced which child counted as his heir. He had expected an audience to make me small. Instead, that night had shown me how much my daughter had been forced to notice. I wished she had never needed to be brave in that way. But I was proud of the life we were building afterward, one ordinary evening at a time.
