“When was the last time you saw them before yesterday?”
Kayla stared at the carpet.
“Kayla.”
I watched Graham do the arithmetic in his head.
She whispered, “Twenty years.”
I watched Graham do the arithmetic in his head: every Christmas story, every supposed phone call, every excuse Kayla had offered when plans somehow changed.
Graham leaned back.
Nobody spoke.
“You told me you went to see them three Christmases ago while I was with my children.”
He finally said, “Twenty?”
“I was young.”
“You told me you went to see them three Christmases ago while I was with my children.”
“I was embarrassed.”
“You told me Jennifer called when my mother died.”
“I thought I could come back when you were grown.”
Don’t miss
Kayla started crying.
“I didn’t know how to explain it.”
Lizzie said, “You could’ve started with the truth.”
Kayla wiped her face.
“I thought I could come back when you were grown.”
“Because grown children are easier.”
Jennifer frowned.
“Why?”
Kayla looked at both girls.
“Because grown children are easier.”
Lizzie’s expression changed.
Kayla started crying harder.
Not angry.
Worse.
Clear.
“We got easier because Grandma did the hard part.”
Kayla started crying harder.
“You don’t owe us the photograph.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s exactly what you meant.”
Graham rubbed both hands over his face.
Then he looked at the twins.
“You don’t owe us the photograph.”
Then Jennifer surprised me.
Jennifer nodded.
“We know.”
“You don’t owe Kayla anything today.”
“We know that too.”
Then Jennifer surprised me.
Jennifer squeezed my hand before we went outside.
“We’ll take the picture.”
Kayla looked up hopefully.
Jennifer didn’t smile.
Jennifer squeezed my hand before we went outside. Then I understood they hadn’t come to ruin Kayla’s day; they had come to reclaim theirs instead.
Kayla stepped toward Jennifer and Lizzie.
A few minutes later, the photographer arranged everyone outside.
Graham’s children gathered first.
Kayla stepped toward Jennifer and Lizzie.
Jennifer moved away.
Lizzie did too.
Graham understood before anyone else.
They came to me.
The photographer looked confused.
“Should we rearrange?”
