But I was exhausted. And Joan noticed.
The chef doesn’t accept complaints.
***
Some mornings, she’d prepare my coffee and sandwich.
“Breakfast, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Princess Joan.”
Other evenings, I’d find her cooking.
“Sweetheart, you have homework.”
I was exhausted.
“Already finished.”
“And your dance class?”
“I skipped it. You looked tired.”
I should’ve been concerned.
Instead, I hugged her. “You’re my lifesaver.”
You have homework.
Our neighbor, Mrs. Collins, saw what I didn’t.
“That girl is fifteen, Emma. She shouldn’t be your second parent.”
“She loves helping.”
“She also loves dancing. When was the last time she went?”
I changed the subject.
You’re my lifesaver.
Mrs. Collins knew everything about my ex-husband Mark.
“You need to tell Joan why he left.”
“I don’t want my girls thinking their father didn’t love them.”
“Then don’t make promises on his behalf.”
I ignored that advice.
Until the afternoon everything exploded.
She shouldn’t be your second parent.
