Chapter 14 - The Unicorn Cake Came Back
Lily turned six on a Saturday.
Three weeks before her birthday, she asked:
“Can I have the unicorn cake again?”
Emily and I both stopped.
“The same one?”
“Not the wet one.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Lily laughed too.
That felt important.
We ordered another pink-and-purple grocery-store cake.
Same bakery.
Same ridiculous plastic unicorn.
Small party.
Six children.
Kevin asked whether Emma could send a gift.
We asked Lily.
She thought about it.
“Can she send it but not come?”
“Yes.”
Emma sent a stuffed dragon.
Note:
Unicorns need somebody to fight monsters.
Lily loved it.
She did not write back immediately.
No one made her.
Richard came to the party.
Patricia did not.
That was Lily’s decision after working with her therapist.
Patricia sent a card.
No guilt.
No request.
Sarah sent nothing.
Her treatment team had advised that direct contact still was not appropriate.
I appreciated that somebody in the system understood absence can occasionally be respectful.
At cake time, I lit six candles.
Lily looked toward the patio door.
Only for a second.
Then back at us.
Emily started singing.
Lily closed her eyes.
Made a wish.
Blew out every candle.
Nobody moved the cake.
Nobody filmed for evidence.
Nobody waited for me to lose control.
The whole moment lasted perhaps thirty seconds.
It was the most ordinary thing in the world.
I had never been more grateful for ordinary.
That evening, after everyone left, Lily handed me one slice of leftover cake.
“For you.”
“I already had one.”
“This is garage cake.”
Apparently that was different.
May you like
I took it.
Some distinctions in families are healthy.
