Page 10 of Matrimonial Merger

Daphne

I smiledat the ultrasound on the top of my dresser in the bedroom. Every morning that I felt sick and miserable, I reminded myself good things were coming. Today would be hard—a very difficult day—but I’d use it to distract myself from the void left by loss. Dad wasn’t here on this Christmas Eve, but he was always in our hearts. And today we threw ourselves into service as a family.

“Are you okay? You really shouldn’t push it,” Cal said, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my neck.

“I’m fine. I’m not made of glass, baby. This is important.”

“I’m just fussing. Sorry. I worry about you.”

I faced him. “I love you for that. But it’s okay. This matters to me.”

Cal kissed me, making me feel more at ease with this difficult day. His touch reminded me that we were both grieving. I could tell him how hard it was. I could love him.

“Can we just… walk over there?” I asked. “It’s early and quiet, but I could use the cold air.”

Cal kissed my forehead. “Of course, baby.”

And that was that. Regardless of what the security people thought, we took a walk over to the service entrance of the store, ducking into the maze of hallways and back sets of stairs that led to my sister’s kitchen. Today, we were assembling huge number of meals for hungry families rather than sitting around at home. We’d closed the restaurant in an act of community service. Volunteers—most of which were somehow related to the family—assembled around a table holding coffee.

Dahlia was the executive chef of the Dolphin Room, our newly-revitalized flagship restaurant. She was building out the foodhall downstairs, but for now the restaurant was her primary focus. Dahlia trained in Europe, worked in Paris, and like me, returned to Chicago to keep Dad’s memory alive in her own way. This was her gift.

As we arrived, I realized the entire family was there—and then some.

I spotted Cal’s stepfather, Tim, and his sister, Chloe, and quickly greeted them.

“What are you all doing here?” I asked.

“Well, Cal said we could come,” Chloe said, giving me a tight hug that made my breasts scream for dear life.

I fought a grimace. “That’s sweet of you.”

“Even Mom came out,” Chloe said, sounding genuinely surprised.

I grew concerned but beat that down. It was a nice thing to do. “Thanks for this. It would mean so much to Dad.”

Mum rushed past me, holding a platter of biscuits and pastries. She said nothing, totally focused on her job. We’d never been close when I was younger. Mum hadn’t been perfect—no parent was—but after Dad’s death, we bonded unexpectedly. I began to realize that Mum was more like me than she wasn’t. By digging in with both hands today, she was trying to cope with Dad’s memory. Last year, we’d started mourning the life wethought we would have. This year, we came to terms with our new reality—Dad’s booming laugh was nowhere to be heard. His warm smile wasn’t seen. His great big hugs were no more.

Instead, as I looked around the room, I listened to my little brother Derrick’s laugh—so much like Dad’s. I saw my baby sister Dora helping mom lay out the snacks for volunteers. She was so generous. She had Dad’s heart. Delanie, came up to laugh with Chloe, who was her best friend. The two hugged, knowing the day was as hard as it was special. Davey helped Dahlia with setup. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders now.

Cal wrapped his hand around my waist as I fought tears.

“Are you doing okay?” He asked.

“I’m about to be a crying mess,” I said. “I don’t even know why.”

“I could think of reasons,” Cal said sweetly.

“It’s okay. We’re doing the best we can. We’re fine. Fine will be enough for the day, right?”

Cal kissed the top of my head. “Fine is more than enough for this season.”

Cal

By noon, I could tell Daphne flagging. Everything I’d read about pregnancy suggested that it was hard on a woman’s body. I wondered when her go-go-go attitude would return. She was so dedicated that her reticence to carry on signaled she reallydidneed a break. I walked up to the table where she was putting rolls into carryout containers, a job she chose because it was the least smelly option and required no heavy lifting.

“Why don’t you take a break,” I suggested.

No fight left, Daphne said, “I’m so tired.”

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