She narrowed her eyes. “Please don’t joke with a curling iron near my head.”
I smiled and fixed the curl anyway.
Iris had pretended for months not to care whenever Ryan texted.
Ryan was the boy every girl wanted: football captain, honor student, and polite enough to lower mothers’ guards.
***
“Do I look okay?” she asked.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
She touched the strap of her dress. “I feel like something is missing.”
“Do I look okay?”
I knew what she meant before she said it.
“Nothing’s missing,” I said.
She looked down. “Do you think Dad would recognize me now?”
Iris glanced up. “Sorry. Bad topic.”
“No,” I said. “Tonight is about dancing and pictures.”
“I just wonder sometimes,” she whispered. “If he ever thinks about me on big days.”
“He made his choice, Iris.”
“Nothing’s missing.”
She nodded because she had heard that sentence her whole life.
“He didn’t want the responsibility,” she said. “I know the drill, Mom.”
“That’s his loss, my darling.”
The lie came out smoothly because old lies knew the shape of my mouth.
***
The doorbell rang.
Iris jumped up. “He’s here!”
“I’ll stall him for two minutes while you get your shoes on.”
“I know the drill, Mom.”
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