Chapter 24
As Rebecca pulls into the parking lot for pickup, Maddy skips to the minivan, backpack bouncing on her shoulders. Rebecca cannot remember the last time she’s seen her daughter leave school wearing a smile.
Rebecca hits the button on the console and the side door slides open. Maddy flings her backpack before her, hops in, and buckles up. Another poke of the button and the door hums shut.
How touch-button easy everything has become, Rebecca thinks. Making espresso, dimming lights from the couch, sending payments.
“Guess what, Mommy? Sydney? She was actually nice, like nice nice, and she asked how my owie was and she meant it and no one even laughed. And they left me alone at lunch time.”
How little it takes for this child to be happy. A few kind words, a modicum of care, being left to eat unmolested. Rebecca’s heart breaks as it does a thousand times a day, but she reconstitutes it quietly.
“What do you say we do . . . Mommy-and-Maddy dinner?”
“Sushi rolls?”
“Yes, ma’am, we can do sushi rolls.”
“I only want salmon, though.”
“I wouldn’t dream of making you eat anything other than salmon,” Rebecca says, tapping on her signal and pulling out.
“Know who else eats salmon?”
Rebecca makes a claw hand, reaches back to scour the air. “Raaar!”
“Yup.” Maddy giggles. “Grizzly bears.”