I smiled. “I hope so.”
Nick had told me to come at four. I arrived at 3:45 because the Uber was fast. I stood on the porch, smoothing my dress and checking my lipstick in the phone screen.
He did not smile.
Then Nick opened the door.
He did not hug me.
He looked past me toward the street first.
“Mom,” he said, “we said four. It’s only 3:45.”
I laughed, thinking he must be kidding.
“I know, honey. The Uber was fast. I couldn’t wait to see everybody.”
I could hear music.
He did not smile.
“Linda’s still setting up,” he said. “The house isn’t ready. Can you wait outside? Just fifteen minutes.”
I blinked. “Outside?”
“It’s just 15 minutes.”
I could hear music, kids running, someone laughing.
I said, “Nick, I came from the airport.”
“I know. We just want it to be ready.”
So I waited.
Then he gave me that quick look busy people give when they want you to cooperate without explaining.
“Please, Mom. Fifteen minutes.”
And then he closed the door.
I stood there staring at it.
So I waited.
Five minutes.
I was not early.
Then ten.
Then fifteen.
Nobody came out.
For illustration purposes only
I sat on my suitcase; my legs ached. I could hear little feet running inside, laughter, music growing louder.
I looked at the door and realized something awful.
I was not early.
No one had stopped me.
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