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I sit there, trying to eat the steak I have no appetite for.
Funny how much can change over a few minutes. Now, the music is headache-inducing. The people annoying. The decor over-the-top.
Fuck this. Fuck it all.
Kyra comes back a few minutes later, looking even worse than before. "That was them."
"And?" I ask.
Her mouth twists around the words. "And they want to see me ASAP. Tomorrow." Her eyes fill and she quickly dabs away the oncoming tears with a long exhale.
My arms go around her and she sinks into them mechanically.
I gape at her, my mind churning round and round.
What the hell do I do now? How do I make this better?
"Do we have to go home?" Madison's soup is done, her eyes hazel saucers on Kyra. The Mickey Mouse ears are akimbo, so much so that they're almost off her head.
"No," Kyra says firmly, straightening herself out of my arms. "Work wants to see me... But I'm not going to let them ruin this for us. You're the most important thing in the world to me."
"She can stay with us," I find myself offering.
Somehow, the idea of watching someone else's kid doesn't seem as awful as it normally would. Even today, while I was a bit nervous, it actually went great. And not even just because I was trying to impress Kyra. I genuinely like Madison. She's fun.
But Kyra's already shaking her head. "I can't ask you to do that."
"Of course you can!" Harley urges her, with a toss of her sandy blonde head, gap-toothed smile sympathetic and eager. "We love Maddy, and I'd hate for her to miss out. Though if you don't feel comfortable..."
Eyes closed, Kyra rubs at her temples, exhaling long and ragged. "No. Yeah. You know what? It can work. My mom's in town anyway."
Huh. Mrs. Masterson was my greatest fan before. But now...
"Oh?" I say.
"There's this book convention thing this weekend," Kyra recounts quickly, with a vague and unconvincing smile. "She doesn't even like going, but this old friend always forces her to, so she'll probably be happy to have an excuse to skip it. I didn't even think about it, but... yeah." She bobs her head weakly, gaze going to Madison. "That OK, honey? If you see the rest of the park with Grandma? Mom just has this work thing and..."
Madison's lower lip is stuck out, her forehead creased in thought. Weird, how damn familiar she seems. Then again, she is Kyra's daughter.
Finally, with one solemn nod, Madison says, "It's OK."
Kyra goes over to give her a hug, smoothing her hair and straightening her Mickey ears. "I'm so sorry, honey. I promise I'll make it up to you."
"It's OK, Mom," Madison says, smiling. "But if you made me leave Disney World early too, then you'd have some major making up to do."
Kyra just chuckles. "Don't I know it." Rising, she gets out her phone. "I'll call my mom, and as soon as she gets here, I should go... See what flight I can catch. If any."
I get out my phone. "I'll start looking at what's out there now while you call your mom."
"OK." She's too rushed to argue, has already dialed the number.
For the next few minutes, we pick at the rest of our meals while Kyra calls up her mom and I get her a flight back to New York for tonight. Afterwards, we kill time watching some cartoon featuring two fat cats before her mom finally meets us at the hotel, her silver-haired head wearing a great big smile as she gives Madison, then Kyra a hug - "My darlings." As they part, she whirls around and gapes at me. "You."
Shit. I hadn't wanted to meet Kyra's mom like this.
Yeah, judging by that horrified frown, she definitely isn't my greatest fan now. Not that I blame her.
"Well." She recovers herself well, turning her body and gaze to Maddy, as though she could make me disappear from sheer ignoring alone. Wonder-fucking-ful. "It's time you were getting to bed, young lady."
"Grandma," Madison groans. "It's only nine."
"A whole hour past your bedtime," Mrs. Masterson returns immediately with a winning smile.
We say our goodbyes, hugs for all - except that Mrs. Masterson is still determinedly ignoring me - and then Kyra pulls away with a final wave, already eyeing the doors with a determined scowl. "Time for me to get going too."
"Me too," I tell her.
"It's fine," she says.
"I booked myself a seat too," I explain. I couldn't just let her go alone like this. I need to be there for her. "I didn't tell you in the rush of everything."
"Oh," she says, the sound more a sigh than a real word. Then, she shrugs and we head out together. Clearly, she's had enough for today.
The pasty white taxi driver with a handlebar mustache putters along below the speed limit infuriatingly. I have to physically restrain myself from throwing him out of the car when he feigns deafness to my stiff requests for him to go faster.
