Chapter 2 - The Girl Who Learned Not to Ask
I sent Eli and Noah upstairs before the argument could go any further.
Eli was fourteen, old enough to understand that something serious had happened. Noah, who was nine, kept looking between his mother and Maya.
“Is Maya in trouble?” Noah asked.
“No,” I told him. “She hasn't done anything wrong.”
Denise didn't respond.
When the boys disappeared upstairs, Maya remained beside me.
I could feel her little fingers tightening around mine.
“Sweetheart,” I said, “why don't you go get ready for dinner? I'll come talk to you in a minute.”
She nodded.
But halfway to the stairs, she turned around.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“If the ticket costs too much now, I can stay.”
My chest tightened.
“Maya, you are not staying home alone.”
“I don't want everybody to be mad because of me.”
Nobody answered immediately.
She looked at Denise, then hurried upstairs.
I waited until her bedroom door closed.
Then I faced my wife.
“How long have you been making her feel like that?”
Denise gave me an incredulous look.
“Making her feel like what?”
“Like she has to apologize for being part of this family.”
“Oh, Marcus. She's sensitive. You know that.”
I almost accepted that answer.
For three years, I had accepted different versions of it.
Maya was sensitive.
Maya misunderstood.
Maya didn't appreciate everything Denise did.
When I married Denise, I believed I was giving Maya a bigger family. Her mother, my first wife, had died when Maya was six. I spent two years raising her alone before Denise came into our lives.
Denise had two boys from her first marriage. Their father lived several states away and saw them mostly during school holidays.
I loved those boys.
I coached Noah's soccer team. I helped Eli fix his bicycle. I never introduced them as anything less than family.
I thought Denise felt the same way about Maya.
But standing in that living room, I began remembering things I'd ignored.
At Christmas, Denise had ordered matching pajamas for Eli and Noah. Maya received a different set because, Denise explained, the store had run out of her size.
During our family photographs, Maya always seemed to end up on the outside.
At the amusement park the previous summer, Denise bought the boys unlimited ride passes but told Maya to choose three rides because she wasn't tall enough for everything.
I had been at work when the tickets were purchased.
I remembered Maya asking if we could go back another weekend.
I'd promised we would.
We never did.
“Those were ordinary parenting decisions,” Denise said when I brought up the examples. “You cannot turn every little thing into discrimination.”
“Then tell me what happened with this ticket.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“I wanted one easy vacation. Eli and Noah have had a difficult year.”
“So has Maya.”
“Everything doesn't have to be about Maya.”
That was when I realized Denise wasn't answering my question.
She was defending a decision she had already made.
I went upstairs.
Maya was sitting on her bed, folding clothes into a small blue suitcase.
The sight stopped me.
There were three T-shirts, two pairs of shorts, her sandals, and a little stuffed dolphin she'd carried since she was seven.
“Baby, what are you doing?”
She looked embarrassed.
“I thought maybe if I packed fast, you could still get me a ticket.”
I sat beside her.
“You don't have to prove you deserve to come.”
She placed the dolphin inside the suitcase.
“Denise said the trip was supposed to be special for her and the boys.”
I swallowed.
“What else did she say?”
Maya picked at a loose thread on the blanket.
“She said I have to understand that sometimes people want time with their real family.”
The room seemed to shrink around me.
“Did she actually use those words?”
Maya nodded.
I had spent three years telling myself that a blended family took patience.
I had never asked whether that patience was being demanded from only one child.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
She looked toward the door before answering.
“Because when I say something, you ask Denise, and then she knows I told.”
I didn't know what to say.
Maya continued quietly.
“And she said you already agreed that I should stay home.”
I reached for her hand.
“Maya, I never agreed to that.”
She looked at me for several seconds.
“Then why did she say you did?”
May you like
I had no answer.
Not yet.
