“You kept them up,” she said quietly.
“I didn’t want to erase you,” I replied. “Even when it felt like you’d erased us.”
We talked about safe things. School. Music. How tall Maisie had gotten. How she liked her pancakes now. What shows she watched.
Eventually, bedtime came like an excuse.
“Say goodnight,” I told Maisie.
She slid off the chair and walked over to Erin. She hesitated, then held out the giraffe.
“This is Gerry,” she said. “He helps when it’s scary.”
Erin looked like she’d been kicked.
“Can I… borrow him until next time?” she asked.
Maisie considered this, then nodded solemnly. “But you have to bring him back.”
After Maisie was asleep, we went back to the table.
No background noise now. Just the hum of the fridge and the distant tick of the hallway clock.
“I’m not here to rip her out of your life,” Erin said quietly. “Or to pretend I’ve earned some title back. I know you’ve done everything for her. I saw it—at that recital, in little glimpses. You’re a good dad, Mark.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked. “Really.”
She exhaled slowly.
“I have a chance to record an album,” she said. “One of the songs I wrote is about her. About… us. The label wants to do a version where she sings one line. Just a chorus, a harmony.” She gave a small, nervous smile. “I thought maybe we could do it together. As a memory. A good one. Something that belongs to her, not just to my story or to yours.”
There was a time that would have sounded romantic, poetic even.
“You don’t get to walk in after five years and ask to put her on a record,” I said flatly. “You don’t get to turn her into proof of your healing.”
Her face fell, but she didn’t argue.
“I get that,” she said. “I do. I just… wanted to ask. To offer her something I built instead of only leaving her with what I broke.”
I rubbed a hand over my face.
“You’ll see her,” I said. “If she wants that. But it’ll be slow. Supervised. My terms. I’ve been the only parent in this house for five years. I’m not taking that stability away from her just because you’re ready now.”
She nodded. “That’s fair.”
Silence settled again. Not as sharp this time. Just tired.
Erin stood, leaving her untouched tea on the table.
“I’ll go,” she said. “You can… call or text. Or not. I won’t show up unannounced again. I’ve done enough damage.”
She walked to the door, hand on the knob, then looked back.
“Thank you for opening the door at all,” she said softly. “You didn’t have to.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust my voice to not say something I’d regret.
The door clicked shut behind her.
The house was quiet again, but not in the same hollow way as before. The air felt… charged. Unsettled. Full of questions that wouldn’t be answered in a single night.
Down the hall, Maisie turned in her sleep, mumbling something about pancakes and stage lights.
For five years, absence had been something solid in our lives. Now, suddenly, it wasn’t so simple.
I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know how many chances are too many. I don’t know if you can rebuild a bridge that was never properly built in the first place. Continue reading…
