Page 21 of Comeback
Outside, Mackenzie’s tantrum grew worse. She wasn’t a big girl, but she was big enough that it couldn’t be easy for Emma to lug her around like that—especially when her arms and legs were wildly thrashing about. Sure enough, Mackenzie managed to wiggle herself out of Emma’s grasp, fell to the ground, and plunked her rear right on the sidewalk while she bawled her eyes out. Emma looked embarrassed as passersby had to step around them. She knelt next to her daughter, trying to reason with her, trying to cheer her up, but Mack wasn’t having any of it.
Emma palmed her forehead. She was desperate. She was trying not to let her frustration show, even though she was at the end of her rope.
Maybe I should’ve left her alone, but I couldn’t just stand there and watch someone who needed help.
I left the cafe and walked up to them.
Emma shot me a look that meant something like, ‘please, don’t get involved.’
But once Mackenzie saw me, I couldn’t help it.
“Jack,” the little one cried, choking my name through her sobs.
Maybe I shouldn’t have picked the girl up, but that was what came naturally to me. I scooped her off the pavement and held her in my arms. Her head rested against my chest. I’d never felt anything like that before—a lovely little weight that warmed my heart. It was so pure, it almost made me feel whole again.
I rocked the kiddo in my arm and patted her back. “There, there.”
With a few hiccups here and there, Mackenzie choked back the rest of her tears. Then she was silent.
“God, I don’t even know what to say,” Emma said. She stared at me, slack-jawed. I was hoping she’d be happy, but if anything, she only looked even more upset than before. “You must think I’m a horrible mother.”
“What?” I reared back. I had no idea how she’d reached that conclusion. “Not at all. Why would you even say that?”
“I can’t buy my daughter’s dinner. I can’t get her to stop crying. What’s next?”
I touched Emma’s shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Emma, I just want to help.”
“And how am I supposed to pay you back this time?” she asked.
“You don’t have to pay me back. That’s what help is, isn’t it?”
She blew out a heavy exhale. “Sorry. I’m just embarrassed.”
“You don’t have to apologize. Just tell me what I can do to help.”
“I think she’s hangry.”
“Hangry?” I cocked my head at her. “What’s that mean?”
“It’s a portmanteau—”
I stared at her. “Awhat?”
“A portmanteau is a combination of two words. Hungry plus angry equalshangry.”
Mackenzie’s head was pressed firmly against my chest.
“Is that true, Mackenzie?” I asked her. “Are you hangry right now?”
“Noo!” the little one yelled, sounding grouchy as hell.
Whoops—I knew I’d provoked her by asking her that question. I wouldn’t make a mistake like that again.
I turned to Emma. “Where’d you learn that word, anyway?”
“Experience, Jack. Kids start to melt down when they’re hungry.”
“No, I meant the other word. Port-whatever.”
