Chapter 2 - THE GOODBYE HE DIDN’T COME FOR
Our flight was Monday morning.
Mark knew.
I sent him the itinerary anyway.
Friday night, I texted him.
The girls would like to have dinner with you before we leave. Saturday at six works.
He replied thirty-seven minutes later.
Can’t. Chloe has a prenatal class.
I stared at the screen.
Then typed.
Sunday?
Another delay.
Family dinner at Mom’s.
I knew exactly what that meant.
Teresa was hosting a dinner for Chloe.
She had sent invitations with tiny blue ribbons tied around the envelopes.
I had seen one lying on Mark’s desk before the divorce.
I typed one final message.
The girls leave Monday at 8:15 a.m.
This time his answer arrived immediately.
I know.
That was all.
Sophia asked about dinner at breakfast Saturday.
“Did Dad answer?”
“Yes.”
“When are we going?”
“He can’t make Saturday.”
“What about Sunday?”
“He has plans.”
She pushed cereal around her bowl.
“What plans?”
Maya looked between us.
“Is it the baby party?”
I said nothing.
Sophia understood.
“Of course it is.”
“Sophia.”
“What?”
“You’re allowed to be angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
“You look angry.”
“I’m embarrassed.”
That answer surprised me.
“Why?”
“Because I keep thinking he’ll choose us once.”
I sat beside her.
“He may disappoint you, but that doesn’t make you foolish for hoping.”
“It kind of does.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“You still hoped for a long time.”
“Yes.”
“Did that make you foolish?”
I considered lying.
Instead, I smiled faintly.
“Sometimes.”
That got half a smile from her.
Maya climbed into my lap.
“Will Grandma Margaret have pancakes?”
“She will if you ask.”
“With strawberries?”
“Yes.”
“And whipped cream?”
“Probably too much.”
“Okay. Canada sounds good.”
Sophia rolled her eyes.
“That’s your standard?”
“Yes.”
Sunday afternoon, Teresa called me.
I almost did not answer.
Then I remembered that after Monday every conversation could become part of a pattern affecting the girls.
“Hello?”
“Elena.”
“Teresa.”
“You could at least sound happy to hear from me.”
“I could.”
Silence.
Then she sighed.
“Mark says you’re actually leaving tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“Toronto seems extreme.”
“It was in the settlement.”
“I know what was in the settlement.”
“Then why are we discussing it?”
Her tone sharpened.
“Because there are children involved.”
“There were children involved when your son signed it.”
“You know Mark is under stress.”
I nearly laughed.
“His girlfriend is pregnant and he’s moving out of a penthouse he never owned. I’m aware.”
“That was unnecessarily cruel.”
“No. It was factual.”
Teresa lowered her voice.
“Do not use the girls to punish him.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re taking them to another country.”
“With his written consent.”
“He didn’t understand what he was agreeing to.”
“Richard explained it twice.”
“He was distracted.”
“That is not my responsibility.”
Teresa inhaled sharply.
“You always did have a cold streak.”
I looked toward the hallway.
Sophia had stopped beside the staircase.
She could hear me.
So I chose every word carefully.
“Your son told me to take our daughters because he wants to start a real family with his son.”
Teresa said nothing.
“You were there for twelve years,” I continued. “You watched the jokes. You made some of them. You celebrated an unborn boy in ways you never celebrated Sophia or Maya.”
“That isn’t true.”
“You sent Chloe weekly flowers.”
“She’s having a difficult pregnancy.”
“You didn’t call when Maya had pneumonia.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
Teresa had no answer.
I ended the silence.
“If you want a relationship with your granddaughters, you may have one.”
“I am their grandmother.”
“Then act like it.”
“Elena—”
“No comparisons. No comments about heirs. No statements implying their brother matters more because he carries the Vance name.”
“My grandson will carry the family name.”
“And there it is.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t love the girls.”
“You may believe that.”
“I do.”
“Then I hope your behavior starts proving it.”
Teresa became quiet.
“Can I speak to them?”
I looked at Sophia.
She shook her head.
“Maya?”
Maya was building a tower with blocks.
“No thank you.”
I returned to the phone.
“They don’t want to talk today.”
“You’re encouraging this.”
“No. They heard you.”
“Elena.”
“Goodbye, Teresa.”
I hung up.
Sophia stared at me.
“Are you in trouble?”
“With Grandma Teresa?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“She sounded mad.”
“She is.”
“Because we don’t want to talk to her?”
“Because she’s used to people doing what keeps her comfortable.”
Sophia sat beside me.
“Does that mean we’re mean?”
“No.”
“What if she says sorry?”
“Then you get to decide when you’re ready.”
Sophia considered that.
“Dad never says sorry.”
“I know.”
“Do grown-ups forget how?”
“Some do.”
The next morning, at 5:40 a.m., our luggage sat beside the elevator.
The apartment looked unfamiliar without toys, schoolbooks, framed photographs and the tiny shoes that had always accumulated by the front door.
Maya walked from room to room saying goodbye.
“Bye, kitchen.”
“Bye, couch.”
“Bye, big window.”
When she reached Mark’s home office, she stopped.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Should I say bye to Daddy’s chair?”
I almost laughed.
“You can if you want.”
“Bye, Daddy’s chair.”
Sophia stood with her backpack over one shoulder.
“Are we really coming back in summer?”
“If your father wants his scheduled time.”
She looked unconvinced.
“He will.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
The elevator arrived.
At the airport, Maya looked behind us every few minutes.
Finally, I asked, “Who are you looking for?”
She whispered, “Dad.”
I checked my phone.
No messages.
At 7:48, while we stood at security, my screen lit up.
Mark.
Are you already at the airport?
I typed.
Yes.
His response came immediately.
I thought the flight was 8:50.
8:15. I sent the itinerary Thursday.
A pause.
Then:
Can I FaceTime them?
I looked at Sophia.
“Your dad wants to video call.”
Her eyes went toward the boarding area.
“He isn’t coming?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He thought the flight was later.”
Sophia’s face changed.
“You told him.”
“Yes.”
“So he didn’t read it.”
“No.”
She looked away.
“Tell him Maya can.”
Maya eagerly took the phone.
“Daddy!”
Mark appeared on screen, still in bed.
“Hey, bug.”
“Are you coming?”
His face tightened.
“I can’t get there before you leave.”
“Why?”
“I got the time mixed up.”
Maya frowned.
“But Mommy sent it.”
“I know.”
“Didn’t you read it?”
Mark glanced away.
“I made a mistake.”
Maya looked confused.
“Are you going to miss me?”
“Of course I am.”
“How much?”
“So much.”
“Then why didn’t you come yesterday?”
Sophia closed her eyes.
Mark looked wounded.
“Maya, it’s complicated.”
“No, it isn’t,” Sophia muttered.
Mark heard her.
“Soph?”
She leaned toward the screen.
“What?”
“I love you.”
She stared at him.
“You said you wanted a real family.”
His face went blank.
“Your mother told you that?”
“I heard you.”
“Sophia—”
“You thought we were in the hallway.”
“Elena, why were they listening to adult conversations?”
I took the phone.
“They were standing ten feet away.”
“You should have protected them.”
The sheer audacity almost left me speechless.
“Protected them from what, Mark?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Your words?”
He went silent.
I lowered my voice.
“I protected them from making those words their fault.”
A boarding announcement sounded overhead.
“We have to go.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“I want to see them this summer.”
“Then follow the schedule.”
“Six weeks is ridiculous.”
“You agreed to it.”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“That is becoming a recurring sentence.”
“Elena.”
I stared at him.
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then figure it out before you call them again.”
I handed the phone to Maya.
“Say goodbye.”
Maya’s eyes filled.
“Bye, Daddy.”
“Bye, bug. I love you.”
She handed the phone to Sophia.
Sophia hesitated.
Then took it.
“Bye.”
“Sophia, I love you too.”
She swallowed.
“Then act like it.”
She ended the call.
For the next twenty minutes, she did not speak.
When the plane finally rose above Chicago, Maya pressed her forehead against the window.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Is Daddy smaller because we’re far away?”
I looked down at the city disappearing beneath clouds.
“Everything looks smaller from far away.”
Sophia sat beside me.
“Does it feel smaller too?”
“Sometimes.”
She stared at the clouds.
“I hope it does.”
Three hours later, we landed in Toronto.
My mother was waiting beyond customs.
Margaret Sterling had silver threaded through her dark hair now, but she still stood as straight as the woman who had once walked through construction sites in heels and a hard hat because she refused to let contractors assume the owner was somebody’s assistant.
Maya ran toward her.
“Grandma!”
My mother dropped to her knees.
“There are my girls.”
Sophia hugged her next.
Margaret held on longer.
Then she looked at me.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“That answer was too fast.”
“I’m functional.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I smiled despite myself.
“I’ll get there.”
She hugged me.
“No rush.”
On the drive into the city, Maya talked nonstop.
“Grandma, Mom says you make pancakes.”
“I do.”
“With whipped cream?”
“If your mother isn’t watching.”
“I’m sitting right here,” I said.
Margaret grinned.
“Then we’ll distract her.”
Sophia watched the buildings pass.
“Grandma?”
“Yes?”
“Is your company really the one that owns our old apartment?”
Margaret’s eyes flicked toward me in the mirror.
“Yes.”
“And Mom owns part of the company?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
I sighed.
“Mom.”
Margaret laughed.
“What? She asked.”
Sophia leaned forward.
“How much?”
“Your mother owns thirty-two percent directly and will inherit additional family shares eventually.”
Sophia stared at me.
“Thirty-two percent?”
“Yes.”
“Is that a lot?”
“It’s enough.”
“Why didn’t Dad know?”
Margaret’s expression hardened.
“He knew.”
I corrected her.
“He knew the facts. He didn’t care enough to understand them.”
“That’s worse,” Sophia said.
My mother met my eyes in the mirror.
Neither of us argued.
That evening in Chicago, Mark stood in the lobby of the penthouse building arguing with the property manager.
“You can’t deactivate my parking access.”
“The vehicle in space 41 is owned by Sterling Urban Holdings.”
“I’ve driven it for three years.”
“That does not change the title.”
“Where am I supposed to park it?”
“You’re required to surrender the vehicle by Friday.”
Mark stared.
“What?”
The manager slid a copy of the fleet notice across the counter.
“The corporation has recalled it.”
Mark pulled out his phone.
He called me at 9:16 p.m.
I answered because the girls were asleep.
“You took the car too?”
“No.”
“Elena, enough.”
“What do you want?”
“The company recalled the SUV.”
“Yes.”
“You knew they would.”
“Yes.”
“You told me I could keep it.”
“I said ‘fine’ when you announced you were keeping it.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No, Mark. It isn’t.”
“You’re playing games.”
“I handed you a key. I did not transfer a vehicle title.”
He swore under his breath.
“What else?”
“What?”
“What else is going to disappear?”
I sat at my mother’s kitchen table.
There it was.
Not: Are the girls okay?
Not: Did they arrive safely?
Not: Did Maya cry on the plane?
What else am I going to lose?
I answered carefully.
“Anything you only had because of me.”
Silence.
Then Mark said, “You think I needed you?”
“I think you’re about to find out.”
He hung up.
I remained at the table for a long moment.
My mother entered carrying two mugs of tea.
“Mark?”
“Yes.”
“What did he ask?”
“What else he’s going to lose.”
Margaret put a mug in front of me.
“Did he ask about his daughters?”
“No.”
She sat down.
“Elena.”
“I know.”
“You can be angry.”
“I am.”
“You don’t sound angry.”
I looked upstairs, where my children were sleeping in rooms my mother had prepared weeks ago.
“I don’t have time to sound angry.”
Margaret reached across the table.
“You don’t have to be strong every minute.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
“What are you trying to be?”
I thought about it.
“Different.”
“From what?”
“From the woman who spent twelve years making Mark’s choices less painful for everyone except herself.”
My mother nodded slowly.
“That woman kept her family together for as long as she could.”
“No.”
I stared into the tea.
May you like
“She kept the appearance of a family together.”
And for the first time, I understood the difference.
