Chapter 6 - Six Candles, Again
Three months later, Sophie turned six again.
Officially, anyway.
Dean insisted.
“The first one was defective.”
“You cannot declare a birthday defective.”
“I run three technology companies. I can declare anything defective.”
Sophie giggled.
We held the replacement party at Everett’s home on the coast of Maine.
No ballroom.
No celebrity caterer.
No six-foot floral walls.
Just family.
Cupcakes.
A backyard treasure hunt.
And an absurd number of pink balloons.
Sophie wore sneakers with her party dress because she said princesses should be able to run.
I agreed.
Everett grilled burgers badly.
Silas complained about Everett grilling burgers badly.
Dean secretly ordered backup pizza.
For the first time in years, I was surrounded by my brothers without wondering whether Caleb would accuse me afterward of loving my family more than him.
At sunset, Sophie sat between them on the porch steps while opening presents.
Uncle Everett gave her a telescope.
Uncle Silas gave her a savings bond and was booed by everyone.
Uncle Dean gave her a child-sized electric keyboard with headphones, earning my undying gratitude for remembering the headphones.
Then Sophie looked at me.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Do I get to make a wish again?”
My throat tightened.
The cake sat in front of her.
Six candles.
Again.
“Of course.”
“Can I tell you?”
“You’re supposed to keep wishes secret.”
She considered that seriously.
Then shook her head.
“I don’t want this one to be secret.”
The porch went quiet.
Sophie looked around at all four of us.
“I wish nobody in our family has to be scared at home ever again.”
Everett looked away.
Silas removed his glasses.
Dean stared down at his shoes.
And I realized I was crying.
I crouched beside her.
“That’s a very good wish.”
“Will it come true?”
I kissed her forehead.
“We’re going to work very hard to make sure it does.”
She blew out the candles.
Everyone applauded.
Later that night, after Sophie fell asleep between twenty stuffed animals in the guest room, I walked alone toward the ocean.
Cold waves folded across the dark sand.
My phone vibrated.
An email from Caleb.
I almost ignored it.
Then I opened it.
There was no request for reconciliation.
No I miss you.
No promise that he had changed overnight.
Just a short update from the supervised family program.
He had completed twelve weeks of behavioral counseling.
He had enrolled voluntarily in an additional accountability course.
He understood that Sophie still did not want to see him.
He would wait until her therapist believed contact was appropriate.
At the bottom was one sentence.
Tell her I love her, but only if hearing that would make her feel safe instead of responsible for me.
May you like
I read it twice.
Then locked the phone.
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