“Mommy, look!” she said, slamming it down on the table. “We’re having a dance at school!”
Bold letters at the top: JEFFERSON ELEMENTARY ANNUAL DADDY-DAUGHTER DANCE.
Her eyes sparkled.
“All my friends are going. Can I go too? Please? I’ll wear my sparkly shoes. And we have to practice dancing so I don’t fall.”
My heart did that weird thing where it breaks and melts at the same time.
The flyer might as well have had another line printed across the bottom:
Not for girls like you.
I tried to smile.
“That looks fun,” I said. “Let me… call the school and see how it works, okay?”
She nodded, already chattering about playlists and hairstyles.
I went into the laundry room so she wouldn’t see my hands shake and dialed the number from the flyer.
“Jefferson Elementary, this is Connie, how can I help you?”
“Hi, this is Sita Patterson’s mom,” I said. “I’m calling about the daddy-daughter dance.”
“Oh, yes!” she said. “It’s such a special tradition here. The girls love it.”
“Is there… any flexibility?” I asked. “Like, can moms go? Or grandfathers? Uncles? Sita doesn’t have a father and—”