I pick Sophie up from school, and Miss Honeywell pulls me aside.
“Can we talk?”
My heart sinks.
“Is everything okay?”
“She’s fine.
It’s just…
she drew a picture today.
Of her family.
And she included a father.”
I close my eyes.
“I know.
She’s been asking about him.”
“I think she needs answers, Lily.
She’s starting to understand.”
“I know.”
“She also told me you said her father was a shooting star.”
I blush.
“It was the only thing I could think of.”
Miss Honeywell smiles gently.
“It’s a beautiful metaphor.
But she’s three now.
She’s going to start asking harder questions.
And you need to be ready to answer them.”
I nod.
“I will.
I just…
I don’t know how.”
I cry for the first time in three years, really cry.
I cry for Sophie, who deserves a father.
I cry for Alexander, who threw us away.
I cry for myself, for the girl I used to be, the girl who believed in love.
And then my phone rings.
I look at the screen.
Unknown number.
I hesitate.
Then I answer.
“Lily?” A voice says.
“It’s Sarah Albert.
We need to talk.”