Chapter 12 - “Maybe your father will finally notice you”
Emmie asked me:
“Why did she say you don’t notice me?”
That hurt because there was enough truth nearby to make the lie dangerous.
I worked too much.
I had missed:
Two school assemblies.
One dentist appointment.
A Saturday soccer game.
Her seventh birthday morning because of an overnight business emergency.
I provided everything.
Security.
Private school.
House.
Travel.
Money.
Those are not attention.
I asked:
“Do you feel like I don’t notice you?”
Emmie shrugged.
Sometimes children use shrugs when the answer is yes.
“Sometimes you’re on phone.”
Fair.
“And people always talk to you.”
Fair.
“And I have to wait.”
Fair.
I did not tell her:
I do it all for you.
Children did not ask us to build empires.
I said:
“I need to do better.”
She looked suspicious.
“Like less phone?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Negotiator.
“We’ll work on that.”
May you like
She smiled.
“Good.”
