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“It was fine, Gen.”
“Mmm, fine. Sounds exciting.”
“Sweetie, would you go get the lettuce and onions in the fridge? Today’s nice. We’ll eat out here.”
“Sure.”
As I marched into the kitchen, my VS whispered over something, then it was gone. Not a warning that Flamma were near like last night outside The Dungeon. No, it was almost a soft tapping, searching for something. As soon as I sensed it, the feeling left me.
When I opened the fridge, I burst out laughing. Dad always delivered his birthday presents in odd places. On my fourteenth birthday, I had to followThe Nightmare Before Christmasringer “This is Halloween” until I found my first iPhone wrapped inside my stuffed Jack Skellington propped on the fireplace mantel. That was a cool one. I kept the same ringer for a year.
Now, leaning in front of the platter of sliced onions, tomatoes, and shredded lettuce, there was a large rectangular envelope with my name scrawled on the front in Dad’s slanted hand. He sketched an apple next to my name. Weird. I took the platter and the envelope out to the deck and sat down with the guys.
Dad grinned. I smiled back as I opened the envelope. The card was sweet, with a cartoon daddy and daughter hugging on the front. Inside, the bold font read:No matter where you go, you’re always Daddy’s little girl. Underneath, he’d written:I’ve been stubborn about this long enough. I’m finally letting you go. Happy birthday, my beautiful baby girl.
I started to tear up at the sentiment, having no idea what this meant until I read the brochure that slid into my lap. On the front were photos of Times Square, MOMA, the Statue of Liberty, Broadway. The heading readCome to the City that Never Sleeps. I squealed with delight.
“Ow,” said Erik, “bring it down a notch.”
“Dad! Seriously! Like seriously, seriously?”
Mindy and I had wanted to go together for ages. She’d already been twice with her mother, but Dad would never let me tag along. I jumped up and squeezed him tight, nearly strangling him from behind.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
I did a giddy little dance before settling back into my chair, perusing the pamphlet.
“Well, you’ll be going with Mindy and her mother the week of Thanksgiving. You can even see the Thanksgiving Day Parade while you’re there.”
“Mindy knows? How did she keep this from me?”
That girl could never keep a secret.
“Actually, I asked her mother to keep her out of the loop until today.”
Suddenly my iPhone vibrated on the table with a crazy, excited text from Mindy, including twenty smiley faces and exclamation points. Talk about timing. I giggled while texting her back.
Then it hit me. How could I possibly go to New York now? How many demons were traipsing around New York? I might as well serve myself on a platter with an apple in my mouth.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” asked Dad, his butter knife midair with mayo on it. “Why the sad face?”
I couldn’t tell him the truth. Now I was reduced to lying to everyone I cared about. I felt even worse.
“Oh, I was just thinking about Mom, how she loved the Thanksgiving Day Parade.”
I knew this would dampen the mood, but I had to say something. And I wanted to say something that was at least half the truth.
I hated lying, and I hated liars. Now suddenly, I was one of them. But in all honesty, my mom did love the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. I can see her now, doling out cinnamon rolls while the turkey was still baking, saying,“Oh, look, Genevieve! It’s Charlie Brown.”
“Thank you, Dad. This is an awesome present,” I said, forcing myself to smile and take a bite of my burger that threatened to lodge in my throat.
Erik glanced at his watch. “Oh, so sorry. I totally forgot I have a field appointment with my supervisor today.”
“Where y’all headed today?” asked Dad.
“Not sure. Again, sorry to run so quickly.”
“You didn’t even finish your burger,” I said, pointing to his plate.
