Daddy Left Me to Wash Dishes While He Took Her Daughter to Disney World

I wore the yellow dress.

It was the one Mom bought me the summer before she got sick, and it was a little short now, but I didn't care. I stood by the back door of Daddy's restaurant, right next to the grease bin that always smelled like old fries, and watched him load two big bags into the trunk of the car.

They had Mickey Mouse on them. Blue and red, with the Disney World castle printed on the side.

My heart started pounding so hard I thought it might jump out of my chest.

He remembered.

I dug into the pocket of my dress and pulled out the mouse ears. They were made of black felt, a little lumpy on one side, with a red bow in the middle. On the bow, in white thread, was a big letter L.

I ran my thumb over the stitches. Some of them were crooked. Mom's hands had shaken a lot by then.

She'd sewn them sitting up in her hospital bed, with tubes in her arm and a tray table pulled close. I'd sat by her feet and handed her the thread.

"When you turn six, baby," she'd said, "you're going to see the castle. The real one. And you're going to wear these so everybody knows you're a princess too."

"Will you come?"

She'd smiled, but she didn't answer. She just kept sewing.

I turned six last Tuesday.

In my other hand I held my backpack. Inside was the birthday card she'd written for me before she died. Daddy kept it in a drawer for a whole year, and on my birthday he gave it to me without saying anything.

I took a step toward the car.

"Daddy, I'm ready," I said. "I even packed my own bag."

He shut the trunk. For a second he just looked at me, like he'd forgotten I lived there.

Then the restaurant door swung open behind me.

Selena came out first. She's Daddy's wife now. She has long red nails and she always smells like perfume that makes my nose itch. She was holding hands with Harper, her daughter, who's nine and in third grade.

Harper had on a pink princess dress with a puffy skirt that sparkled in the sun. Around her wrist was a plastic band, white and blue, with the castle on it.

I knew what that band was. Daddy had shown me one just like it on his laptop a month ago, when I asked him about the trip. He'd said, "We'll see."

Harper held her wrist up and twisted it so I could read it.

HARPER, it said.

I looked from her wrist to the car. Through the back window I could see the booster seat. Pink. Harper's.

There was no other seat.

And all of a sudden, a bunch of things lined up in my head, the way puzzle pieces do when you finally see the picture.

Daddy canceling my swim lesson three Saturdays in a row because he was "too busy," then coming home with Harper and a bunch of shopping bags. Daddy taking my chair away from the dinner table and putting it in the kitchen next to the dishwasher. "Harper's older," he'd said. "She needs more attention right now. You can eat in here, it's no big deal."

It had felt like a big deal.

"Why?" I asked. My voice came out small. "Why does she get to go?"

Daddy glanced at Selena. Selena raised one eyebrow at him, like she was waiting.

"Harper got straight A's on her report card," Daddy said. "Harper earns this trip, Lucy. You need to learn that rewards aren't free."

"But Mom said—"

"Lucy."

"Mom said when I turned six." I unzipped my backpack so fast the zipper caught on my finger. I pulled out the card and held it up to him. "Look. She wrote it. She drew it."

On the front was a castle. The towers leaned to the side and one of them didn't have a top, because Mom's pen had slipped. Underneath, in her loopy handwriting, it said: *For my Lucy on her 6th birthday. Go see the castle for me. I'll be watching.*

I pointed at the leaning tower.

"This is what she wanted. She wanted me to go. It's her wish, Daddy."

His face changed. His mouth went flat and something dark moved behind his eyes. He reached out and took the card from my hand.

For one second, I thought he was going to cry. I thought he was finally remembering her.

He opened it, looked at it, then closed it again.

And tore it in half.

Right down the fold, right through the middle of the castle. The sound was so quiet. Just a little rip.

I didn't scream. I couldn't even breathe.

"Stop using your dead mother to make me feel guilty," he said. "She's gone, Lucy. You need to grow up."

He dropped the pieces. One landed on my shoe. The other fluttered down next to the mop bucket by the door, where some gray water had sloshed onto the concrete.

Before I could move, Selena leaned down and plucked the mouse ears right out of my fingers.

"Oh, these are cute," she said. "A little homemade, but cute."

"Those are mine," I said. "Give them back. My mom made those."

She didn't even look at me. She turned around and set them on Harper's head, fixing them behind her ears.

Harper shrieked and spun in a circle. "Mom, look! I match my dress!"

"You look perfect, sweetie."

I looked at Daddy. He was watching Harper spin. He didn't say anything. He didn't tell Selena to give them back.

He didn't do anything.

I bent down and picked up the half of the card that was on my shoe. Then I went over to the puddle and picked up the other half. The dirty water had soaked into the corner, right over the word *Lucy*, and the ink was starting to bleed.

At Mom's funeral, Daddy had held me on his lap in the front row. He'd squeezed me so tight it hurt, and he'd whispered into my hair, "It's you and me now, kiddo. There will always be a place for you. Always. I promise."

I held the two wet pieces together like maybe they'd stick.

"Here." Selena was standing over me with something in her hands. It was an apron, the old kind the kitchen guys wore, stained brown on the front and fraying at the edges. She pulled it over my head and tied the strings around my waist. She had to wrap them around twice because it was so big. The bottom of it dragged on the ground.

"Since you're not coming, you can make yourself useful," she said. "The kitchen's short-staffed today. You'll do the dishes."

"I'm six."

"Then you're old enough to rinse a plate." She pressed a yellow sponge into my hand. It was cold and slimy. "Don't break anything."

I looked over at Daddy again. He already had his hand on the driver's side door.

My throat felt tight, but I made myself talk anyway.

"Daddy?" I held the sponge up, like it was proof. "If I wash all the dishes, can I go next time?"

He opened the door. He didn't look at me.

"Get back to work, Lucy."

Then he got in.

Selena buckled Harper into the pink booster seat and climbed into the front. The engine started. I stood in the doorway in my yellow dress and the big brown apron, holding the sponge.

The car rolled out of the parking lot. Through the back window, Harper twisted around in her seat. She was wearing my mouse ears, the red bow with Mom's white L right in the middle, and she waved at me with the hand that had the wristband on it.

I didn't wave back.

I watched until the car turned at the stop sign and disappeared behind the bank.

Then it was just me and the grease bin and the sound of pans banging inside.

I folded the two pieces of the card as small as I could and pushed them into my dress pocket, where the ears used to be. The wet corner pressed cold against my leg.

Inside the kitchen, the air was hot and smelled like bleach and onions. The dishwasher was already humming. On the wall next to it hung a whiteboard with the schedule written on it in black marker.

I didn't read everything yet, but I could read my own name.

LUCY.

It was written in Selena's handwriting, the one with the big curly letters. Next to it was a long list.

*Breakfast dishes. Lunch dishes. Pots. Floor by sink.*

Today was Saturday. I followed the list down with my finger until I got to the very bottom.

*All dinner service dishes.*

I knew what time the restaurant stopped serving dinner on Saturdays. It was painted on the front window, right under the name.

Ten o'clock at night.