Lily’s voice floated from the back seat.
“It’s our thing.”
“Daddy, why are you talking to yourself?”
“I’m practicing being brave, kiddo.”
“Oh. Okay.”
She went back to her juice box, satisfied. Six-year-olds are the easiest audience I’ve ever had.
***
My plan wobbled exactly once.
Grace found me in the garage on a Thursday night, laptop open, eyes wet.
She stood in the doorway in her pajamas.
“I’m practicing being brave, kiddo.”
“Dad? You okay?”
I closed the screen too fast.
“Just missing your mom tonight, sweetheart.”
My daughter walked over and hugged me around the middle.
“Me too. But Claire makes you laugh again. That matters, right?”
I couldn’t answer for a second.
“Yeah, honey. That matters.”
She went back to bed. I sat there for a long time.
“Just missing your mom tonight.”
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Claire could still choose differently without her mother in the room whispering the script.
