"That's beautiful," Sophie said, then hesitantly. "Do you do you get to see her often?" The question hit harder than she could have known. Marcus' hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Every chance I get," he said, which might not be for much longer.
"What do you mean?" Marcus didn't know why he said it. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the darkness, the rain, the anonymity of talking to strangers he'd never see again. Maybe he just needed to say it out loud to someone who wasn't going to judge him.
"Her mother and I are divorced," he said. She left 3 years ago, just vanished. No contact, nothing. And now she's back and she's trying to take full custody. Says I'm not fit to be a father because I work too much.
Because I don't make enough money. He laughed bitterly. We go to court in 3 days. That's horrible, Sophie whispered. It is what it is.
Marcus's voice was flat tired. I'm doing everything I can. Two jobs, saving every penny, showing up to every school event, every parent-teacher conference. But sometimes, he trailed off. Sometimes what?
Maya prompted gently. Sometimes it feels like it's not enough. Like the world already decided I'm not good enough, and nothing I do is going to change that. The words hung in the air, heavy and painful. Sophie turned to look at him. really look at him for the first time.
Can I tell you something?" Marcus glanced at her. "Sure, our father is like that, always working. We barely see him. He has all the money in the world, but she paused, seeming to choose her words carefully.
We'd trade all of it, every penny, just to have dinner with him once a week without him checking his phone. Just to have him actually be there." He thinks providing means everything. Maya added from the back seat. He doesn't understand that we just want him present.
That's all. Just there. Marcus didn't know what to say. These girls with their designer clothes and their Mercedes and their clearly wealthy father. They were lonely.
He could hear it in their voices. See it in the way they looked at each other. You should tell him that, he said finally. We've tried. Sophie's voice was small.
He doesn't listen. Says we don't understand what it takes to maintain our lifestyle. Sounds lonely. It is. Sophie turned to face the window.
Money doesn't fix loneliness. It just makes it more comfortable. They drove in silence for a while. The storm seemed to be letting up a little. The rain still fell, but the lightning had moved on to terrorize some other stretch of highway.