Clare turned to him with something bright in her expression. something that was more than the moment, more than just pride about a tubal hit. "She's going to be extraordinary," she said. "Not the way people said it to be kind. The way people said it when they'd seen something real." Ethan watched Lily round second base at full speed, helmet slightly sideways, absolute commitment to her face.
"Yeah," he said. "She already is." After the game, Lily came off the field and spotted Clare before she spotted Ethan, which said something about the sign. She ran directly at Clare with her arms out, and Clare caught her without hesitation. And Lily grabbed the sign with the reverence of someone receiving an important award.
It has glitter, Lily said. Obviously, Clare said. Dad doesn't do glitter. I know. That's why I brought it.
Lily looked at Ethan. She brought glitter. Dad, I see that. We should keep her. It landed in the air between the three of them.
Casual and accidental and absolutely devastating in its honesty. Lily had already moved on. She was asking Clare something about the sign, whether she could keep it, where they might put it, and didn't notice the half second that passed between the two adults. The half second where Ethan looked at Clare and Clare looked at Ethan, and neither of them said a word, and both of them said everything. They went to breakfast.
After the game, Lily had decided with the authority of someone accustomed to her opinions being taken seriously that they were going to the diner on Alamita because it had the best hot chocolate in Denver and that was a fact and was not up for discussion. Ethan drove. Clare sat in the passenger seat. Lily sat in the back and provided running commentary on everything they passed, including a sustained critique of a billboard she found philosophically objectionable. At the diner, Lily ordered the hot chocolate and a stack of pancakes and then immediately climbed halfway across the table to show Clare something in a small notebook she'd produced from her jacket pocket.
It was, she explained, her T-ball strategy book. She had been keeping notes. Clare looked at the notebook with complete seriousness. Walk me through it. Lily walked her through it in detail for 12 minutes.
Clare asked two questions that Lily found excellent and one question that she found slightly naive and she corrected it patiently. And Clare accepted the correction without condescension. And Ethan sat across from them and drank his coffee and watched and felt something so uncomplicated and good that he almost didn't know what to do with it. His phone buzzed. He glanced at it out of habit. a text from a number he didn't recognize which he almost ignored and then he read the first three words and didn't ignore it.
Ethan, it's Daniel. He put the phone face down on the table. Lily was still explaining the notebook. Clare was still listening. His phone buzzed again.
He turned it over. I know you probably don't want to hear from me. I owe you an apology and I owe Clare. Can we talk? He stared at the message.