“Mom came because I needed her.”
Behind us, the photographer called for the “new family” portrait.
Ryan looked toward Amelia.
She didn’t move.
Neither did I.
A few seconds later, Lina joined Ryan beneath the flower arch.
There was an empty space beside them where Amelia had apparently been meant to stand.
There was an empty space beside them where Amelia had apparently been meant to stand.
Ryan stared at it longer than he looked at the camera.
Then we left.
***
In the car, Amelia held the candle across her knees.
Advertisement
I glanced at it.
“Want me to throw that thing away?”
“No, Mom.”
“Okay.”
She ran one finger along the smooth white wax.
“It’s mine.”
“Want me to throw that thing away?”
That answer made more sense than anything the adults had said all day.
***
When we got home, her younger sisters attacked her with questions.
“Was the cake huge?”
“Did Dad cry?”
“Was Aunt Lina wearing a crown?”
