Chapter 10

When I woke up on my fourteenth birthday, I immediately smelled hash brown waffles and smiled. Birthday Breakfast was a thing of legend at my house and my favorite tradition. Mom knew how to mash up the potato strings so they’d cook just right. The smell also meant a plate full of regular waffles and sausage patties would be waiting. She knew I loved to layer them all into a giant waffle sandwich too big to eat with a fork.

The door opened and Kennedy peeked her head in, all dressed and ready to go at 7am. She’d even curled her hair. “Hey, old lady. Happy Birthday.”

“I’ll never be as old as you,” I murmured, stretching and startling Sunshine, who’d been curled up on the bedspread between my legs. She jumped off the bed and turned to glare back at me with sleepy eyes.

“And I’ll never be as take-care-of-me-I’m-adorable as you the minute I wake up, so I guess I’ll have to rely on my brains. What do you do, wake up in the middle of the night and style your hair?” She walked in and messed up my hair before I could shove the pillow over my head. “There. That’s better.”

“You’re supposed to be nice to me on my birthday,” I growled.

“That was the nice version. Get up. Breakfast is ready and I’m starving.” She strode out and left the door open three inches. A trick Mom always used—leaving it open meant I’d have to get up and close it if I wanted privacy. Not that I had any intention of sleeping through Birthday Breakfast.

But even that would be nothing compared to the gift sitting on my dresser for the past eight months—tickets for a daddy-daughter date to see my favorite music artist in the entire world.

I dressed quickly, threw my hair into a messy bun, and practically ran into the kitchen.

Kennedy sat at the table, already lost in a math book. Alexis glared at her empty plate, her soccer jersey rumpled like she’d slept in it. Mom set down a bowl of heated syrup, glanced at Alexis, and rolled her eyes. She always complained that she could never get Alexis’s clothes clean because she refused to take them off.

Mom came at me for a huge hug. Despite the dark circles under her eyes, she wore a wide smile. “How’s my birthday girl?”

“Fourteen,” I murmured into her shoulder.

Mom withdrew and covered her ears. “I didn’t hear that. It isn’t mathematically impossible for my baby to be fourteen.”

“Yet it’s completely possible for your thirteen-year-old daughter to turn fourteen,” Alexis grumbled. No matter what came out of Mom’s mouth, she constantly criticized or corrected her. More so lately than usual, though I had yet to figure out why.

Mom ignored her. “Fourteen or not, I hope you’re hungry enough for this. I think we could feed the neighborhood.”

“Or Lexi,” Kennedy said.

Alexis punched her arm.

I loved my family.

I pulled a napkin over my chest, tucking it into my shirt below my neck. I only did this at home, mostly because it made Mom laugh. I knew my duties as the youngest daughter, and I performed them well.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

Some of the light in Mom’s eyes faded. “We’ll start without him today. Kennedy, will you say grace?”

We asked a blessing on the food and then dug in. I groaned with pleasure at the very first bite. A bottle of ketchup sat right in front of my plate for the hash brown waffle, but I never needed that. Hot syrup would do just fine.

I was halfway through my breakfast mountain and the usual morning conversation when Dad entered.

My entire family turned into statues—Dad looking at Mom, Mom looking at the floor, and Alexis staring at her food.

Kennedy and I gaped at each other. Had we missed something?

“I know what happened,” Dad said. Almost a whisper, not a shout, but Mom flinched like it was more. His eyes seemed almost as red as hers, his hair greasy and unkempt. It was then I noticed he wore the same collared shirt and jeans as yesterday.

“Not at Jillie’s birthday breakfast,” Mom said firmly. “We’ll talk later.”

His hands clutched the back of the empty chair, his knuckles almost white. “Everyone is here. We’ll talk now.”

“Honey, I don’t care what you think you know. This is an adult matter and we’ll discuss it after the kids go to school.”

“I’m leaving.”

I stopped chewing. He looked almost robotic, as if not an ounce of feeling existed inside of him. The color drained from Mom’s face as she stared at him, her lips slightly parted.

I didn’t get it. Dad never left the house without grabbing something to eat. He’d get hungry at work.

And then I saw it. A navy blue suitcase waited at the bottom of the stairs, its handle up and ready for escape.

“Why?” Mom whispered. Her voice sounded haunted. I saw her hands slowly form fists as she stood there, slouched over like her narrow shoulders suddenly carried an enormous weight.

“You know why.” Dad stepped through the entryway to the kitchen, grabbed the suitcase handle, and headed for the front door.

Alexis’s fork clattered to her untouched plate. “I’m going too.” She leaped to her feet and ran after him.

The details felt like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit together. Kennedy stared after Alexis with her mouth hanging open. Mom sank into a chair, pale as a sheet of notebook paper. The door opened, paused for a moment, and then closed again. Silence followed.

My birthday breakfast sat in front of me, forgotten.

I rose and hurried to the door, yanking it open. Mom called after me as a horrible realization closed its grip on my heart. The door slammed behind me, but I didn’t care.

Dad and Alexis were already climbing into his car. I reached them just as the car door closed and the engine turned over. Dad’s gaze caught mine for the briefest of seconds before looking away. His eyes held a deadness that made me take a step backward.

“Dad,” I said, my voice shaking. “Our concert.”

“Some things are more important,” he said. “You’ll understand one day.” Then the window slid closed and the car backed down the driveway. I looked past Dad to Alexis, who watched me in sad resignation. She didn’t seem surprised about this at all.

“You promised!” I shrieked at the car. “You said it would be different.”

The car zoomed up the street. At the last second, it turned and I caught a glimpse of two figures in the car. Two of the people I loved most in the world, gone just like that.

Just like Jack. Here one minute, vanished the next.

Some things are more important, Dad said. I stood in my empty driveway for a long time, those words echoing in my teenaged mind. I couldn’t imagine anything being more important than a girl on her birthday, but clearly I was too young to “understand” even at fourteen. It may not have been the lesson my father meant to teach, but nonetheless, a lesson settled into my heart, never to be forgotten.

I, Jillian Travell, would never be important enough.