After I leave Ruby with her music class, I’m standing among other parents, looking for prime seats. They’re like oceanfront property, the way some parents bump and push others out of the way. And there’s always that parent, the one who has brought their 1980s camcorder and is blocking the view of others.
I used to be that parent. The one who got here early and reserved seats, the one who skipped dinner to make sure everyone had front-row viewing. This year, I failed, and I’m sitting three rows from the back, behind a row of very tall people.
Every so often, I look toward the door, praying that Rory will walk in. I doubt I’ll call him over, but seeing him would be a nice reprieve. Not for me, for Ruby. She needs to see her father, to know he still cares.
The classes file in. I crane my head to look for Ruby and smile as I see her curly ponytail bopping along. One last look toward the door yields nothing, and neither does my quick scan of the parents rushing to their seats. I try not to feel disappointed, but I am.
When the lights dim, I try not to cry. I don’t know what else to do, to get it through Rory’s head that he can’t make promises to Ruby. Not anymore. I can’t and I won’t keep covering for him.
A hand touches my shoulder, and my heart soars. Crouched down next to me is Jason Hayes whose daughter Emily is a few years older than Ruby. “Is that seat taken?” he whispers.
I shake my head and tell him no as quietly as I can. He sits down next to me, thanking me. I’m not sure what to say to him, so I try to focus on the music teacher as she tells us about tonight’s performance. Thankfully, Ruby’s class is up first, but unfortunately, I have to stay until all the performances are finished. Normally, I wouldn’t mind except the middle school band is playing again at our tree lighting ceremony, and it’ll likely be the same songs as tonight.
My little Ruby stands on the risers, singing her lungs out. I can’t help but feel incredibly proud of her, even when she messes up. I can tell when she does, because she covers her mouth and tries to sing even louder on the next verse.
It’s an hour and half later when the concert’s over. Once the lights are on, there’s a mad rush to get out of the gymnasium. In the hall, there are light refreshments as we wait for our children.
“She has pipes.” I jump at the sound of Rory’s voice. He stands before me, his eyes sunken in with bags that match mine. His shirt is wrinkled, and it doesn’t look like his slacks have been pressed. I try not to cheer, but it’s a victory for me to know he never looked tousled when I was taking care of him.
“What are you doing here?” The question is ridiculous, but it’s the only thing I could think to say because I wasn’t expecting him to show up.
“Our daughter had a concert.” As if he needed to remind me.
He steps closer, invading my personal bubble. I try to smile, but I can only look away. A few of our friends stop and chat, forcing Rory and me to make small talk with them. I’m sure it’s as awkward for them as it is for us.
When Rory’s hand touches the small of my back, it takes everything in me not to step away or even move nearer to him. It’s been so long since I’ve felt the warmth of his hand that my mind is telling me one thing while my heart is saying something entirely different.
Ruby yells for her dad. I try not to let it bother me, but it does. He squats down to meet her, wrapping his arms around her before picking her up. “Mommy, did you hear me?”
“I did,” I tell her as I try to put her coat on without asking Rory to put her down. “You were wonderful.”
“I messed up.”
“It’s okay. You have a whole year to learn the songs for your next winter concert,” Rory says.
“They change every year,” I mumble.
He nods and carries Ruby out of the lobby, where he heads to the parking lot and stops at his car.
“I’m over there,” I say, pointing toward my car.
“I thought we could go for some ice cream.” Ruby screams in agreement, which makes me want to drag her father behind the school and chastise him for saying that aloud.
“Yes! Ice cream. Ice cream,” Ruby starts chanting, which makes me want to drag her father behind the school and chastise him for saying that aloud.
“What do you say, Gwennie?”
“You two go ahead. I’ll see you at home, Ruby.” I walk toward my car and try to forget the scene that’s happening behind me.
“Gwen, wait up.”
“Where’s Ruby?” I ask, looking at his empty hands. He points at his car.
“She’s inside. She’s safe.”
“What do you want then?”
“You,” he says, which makes my heart speed up. “I want my family back.”