“Some schools let moms go too,” I added quickly. “But this one doesn’t. So we… we’re not going this year, bug.”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“Is it because I don’t have a daddy?” she asked. “Did I… do something wrong?”
“No,” I said, too quickly. “No, no, no. You didn’t do anything wrong. This is their rule, not your fault.”
“Then why don’t I have one?” she asked, voice breaking. “Am I not good enough for a daddy?”
There it was.
The question I had been dreading since the stick turned pink.
My mind scrambled for a perfect answer. A speech about grown-ups and their flaws. About how some people leave, not because of who we are, but because of the holes in themselves.
What came out was clumsy and human.
“Your dad leaving had everything to do with him,” I said, wiping her tears with shaky hands. “And absolutely nothing to do with you. You are more than enough. You are… the most enough person I have ever met.”
She sniffed.
“Then why doesn’t he want me?” she whispered.
I didn’t say, Because he’s a coward.
I didn’t say, Because the minute responsibility knocked, he dove out the bathroom window.
I just pulled her closer.