Chapter 60
The Birthday
Killian
Age eight
It’s still dark outside when I wake, so I turn in bed and try to fall asleep again, but then I hear sounds downstairs. Suddenly, I’m wide awake. Dad is home! The best and biggest birthday present!
Excited, I jump out of bed and rush out of my room, over the landing, and bound down the stairs so fast Mom would have a fit if she saw me.
But she’s never up this early. Making sure it stays like that, I carefully close the living room door before rushing on and finding Dad in the kitchen, putting a tray in the oven.
“Dad!” I exclaim, rushing to the kitchen.
“Hey,” he says and turns to me. “Happy birthday.”
I pause when he remains behind the kitchen island, watching me with an almost sad look instead of the big smile he usually gets when seeing me after a long tour.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my belly suddenly feeling tight. “Are you not happy to see me?”
“Of course, I am.” He rounds the island and crouches to give me a big hug. But when he holds me out by the arms, he’s still not smiling. “Mom had to leave and won’t be here today. It will just be the two of us celebrating.”
I frown. “Where did she go? She promised to bake me a cake.”
“I will get you whichever cake you want. And we can go to the zoo, like we did last year.”
I smile. Last year, Mom was sleeping on the couch, snoring loudly. She had made the same promise then, but the cake Dad got me while we were out tasted much better than any Mom has ever made. And I got to spend alone time with Dad. So I nod eagerly, hoping today will be the same.
Dad pops me onto a chair by the island and tells me all about his tour while he makes hot chocolate with marshmallows and checks on the buns in the oven.
“You baked yourself?” I ask with big surprise when he takes the delicious-looking golden buns out of the oven.
“Sure did.”
“Wow, they look good,” I say, mouth watering.
And they’re just as good as they look. I had no idea Dad could bake.
I make sure to ask him to do it again after I’ve eaten three buns and my stomach feels like it’s about to burst. He promises to cook for me every day he can, and I bounce in my seat with excitement, knowing he’s better at keeping promises than Mom.
We spend the day going to the zoo, then watching Ice Age and stuffing ourselves with the car-shaped cake Dad bought me, and then he teaches me to play the right hand of a Chopin nocturne and lets me play it while he plays the left one.
In the evening, I sit at the kitchen island again while Dad makes burgers and fries, asking more about his tour, the stages he played on, and the places he played. I hope I’ll get to do the same when I grow up.
“When is Mom coming back?” I ask when we’re at the dining table and I’m gobbling up the delicious burger he made.
“Let’s eat, then we’ll talk about it.”
“Okay,” I say, quickly forgetting about it as I stuff my mouth with fries.
Dad smiles, but it’s not as happy as usual, and when I’m done eating, I notice that he has barely touched his burger.
“Are you okay?” I ask, just like I did this morning.
“Killian, Mom has left. She won’t be coming back.”
I take a big slurp of soda and dry my sleeve over my mouth. “Is she sleeping at a friend’s?”
“She won’t be coming back,” he repeats.
I give a shake of my head, not understanding what he’s saying.
“It will just be the two of us from now on,” he continues.
I think it’s a good thing—I’d like some alone time with Dad—but the seriousness on his face makes my stomach turn, threatening to make the burger come back up.
“I have cancelled my next tour. I’ll be here every day, taking you to school, cooking for you, and playing the piano with you. You can keep taking piano lessons with Mrs. Davies, or I can give you lessons. It’s all up to you.”
“Really?” I say, but the excitement isn’t as big as it should be. This is the best birthday present I could get—something I’ve been dreaming of—but it still doesn’t feel right.
“Yes,” Dad says with a smile that doesn’t quite look like a smile.
“And Mom? When will she come back?” Spending time with Dad is my favorite thing, but I’m starting to miss her. It’s my birthday. I haven’t seen her at all today.
Dad rounds the table, lifts me from my chair, and sits with me on his lap. “Killian, Mom is not coming back. At all. Not in the fall, not for Christmas. It’s just you and me now. She has left us.”
“She’s n-n-not coming b-b-b-back?”