Page 27 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
Her voice muffled, "Really?"
"Mmhmm. Yes—she didn't want me to take back something that you believed I'd given you.” I stroked her tangled morning hair, noticing how much longer it had grown. “I realize now that I should have just come to you right then and been honest—I mean, I should have never done it in the first place, but once I had, I should have just talked to you.” My voice caught slightly, and I cleared my throat. “I don’t think—I don’t think I gave you enough credit. You’re growing up, and clearly I’ve missed a lot.” I pulled back just enough to look into her reddened eyes, seeing Jessica's features reflected there, but something uniquely Macy too. “I’m really sorry, honey."
Her fingers twisted at the edge of her shirt, pulling the worn cotton into a tight spiral until her knuckles blanched white. She stared down at the floor, her voice small but steady. "Yeah dad. You should have told me." She swallowed hard, a tear tracking down her flushed cheek. "Daddy, I love Felicity. She always makes time for me, even when she's tired after work—like when she helped me with my science project until midnight when it was due on Monday and Mom forgot to get the stuff to help me. I don't want her to be hurt because of something I did."
"I know, sweetheart. And I'm going to make this right. Not just with her. But with you too. I don't know how yet, but I know that talking to you was my first step."
She was quiet for a moment longer, then looked up at me with soft, thoughtful eyes. "Can I help you figure out what to do to make it up to her?"
I blinked. "You want to help?"
She nodded. "But you have to promise not to mess it up."
Despite everything, I smiled. "Deal."
And for the first time in days, I felt the smallest flicker of hope.
Chapter 12: Mimosas and Murals
~Felicity~
I woke up slowly, sunlight warming my skin—I’d left the curtains open. I wish I could say that I felt fresh as a daisy. I did not. I was definitely hungover. Burying my head in the pillow I found myself wishing I could be forty with my twenty-year-old capability to bounce back from a night of drinking. Groaning, I pulled myself out of bed and slunk to the bathroom.
Leaving the door open, I thought, No lights—definitely not turning the lights on in here. Climbing into the shower, I just let the hot water wash away the alcohol I knew was seeping through my pores. The massage on my scalp was surprisingly healing. I think I need an infusion of caffeine … and water. I should probably drink water, not just stand in it.
I went through the motions of getting ready. Deciding though that I would get breakfast out, I skipped room service and held off on taking something to help with my headache. I did, however, knock back one of the giant bottles of water they provide in the room. Just before leaving, I checked my phone and found messages from Caden.
Caden: I know you said no texting.
Caden: But I didn’t want to let today pass without saying Happy Birthday
Caden: I realize everything I’ve done, recently and in the last couple years, hasn’t told you this, but I love you. You are everything to me. I’ve done nothing to make you believe that. Iwish I could turn back time, but I can’t. So I will show you that change is essential to me because YOU are essential to me.
Caden: Enjoy your birthday. Call me if you want to talk. But I couldn’t let you think that you weren’t on my mind on this very special day. I love you.
I looked at the messages, reading them over again. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second. A thank you? A heart? Something easy and kind? But no. Not today. Today wasn’t about us. So I left him on read and exited my hotel room.
Ten minutes later I slid onto a pastel barstool in a tiny café tucked beside the hotel. My fingertips traced the cool blue and white tiles of the counter. The barista pulled an espresso shot, and the aroma hit me like a physical force, popping my drooping eyelids open. When the server set down my Nutella French toast, I closed my eyes at the first bite—warm chocolate spreading across my tongue, the bread soft and gooey beneath my fork. I caught the server's eye, pointed to a woman three stools down nursing something orange in a glass the size of her head. "That. And coffee. Lots. Please." By my third sip of my mimosa and my second cup of coffee, my headache receded, and I could finally unclench my jaw. I felt human again..
Human—and obligation-free. No reminders popping up on my phone, calls to answer, no colleagues pinging me about yet another crisis. It was my birthday, damn it, and I had officially reclaimed it.
Phone in hand, I opened Google Maps and typedThings to do in Miami.For the first time in what had felt like forever, I could pick anything without factoring in someone else’s schedule—or their opinion. The freedom tasted better than the French toast.
I settled on three things: Wynwood Walls, Pérez Art Museum Miami, and a sunset cruise. Zero sand, zero tequila shooters (probably), maximum touristy delight. A perfect farewell tour.
By late morning the Uber dropped me onto NW 2nd Avenue where color bled across every surface. Murals stretched to the sky: a neon jaguar stalking a queen; block letters screamingCREATE MORE, CONSUME LESS.I paid the entry fee, slipped through the gate, and let the fun begin.
Our assigned guide mentioned that every wall there was repainted—nothing was permanent. I stopped at a dripping teal heart half-buried under fresh pink strokes. The piece was titledLove in Layers.It was beautiful and messy and profoundly unfinished. I snapped a photo, tempted to send it to Caden with a snarkywork-in-progress.I didn’t. Instead, I noted in my phone—Life can be repainted.
Before I left, I bought a postcard of that mural. A keepsake for Future Me, because Future Me could always use the reminder.
A quick ride-share later, I stood beneath the Pérez Art Museum Miami hanging gardens. Biscayne Bay glimmered like liquid glass beyond the terrace. Inside, the exhibitBetween Memory and Migrationpulled me room to room—in the exhibit, there were textiles woven with family photos, a film loop of waves projected on suitcases. One installation was a cube of mirrored beads suspended from the ceiling. I stepped inside; infinite versions of me shimmered back: younger, older, braver, calmer.
I touched a bead, whispered,See you in ten years,and laughed when a nearby guide nodded like this was perfectly normal behavior.
I left the museum and decided to grab lunch. A fifteen-minute walk away was an area of food trucks where I found one thatservedthe best arepas in Miami!So of course I had to try one. I grabbed a picnic table, enjoyed the sunlight and the hum of conversation around me. The pulled pork arepa was incredible—the Fanta refreshing and ice cold.
Stuffed to the gills, I let myself relax for a bit before I headed off to do a little shopping and walk off the calories I had just taken in. I found myself at the Bayside Marketplace—an open-air shopping adventure. Listening to the steel drums and feeling the ocean breeze, my feet carried me from one shop to the next—my arms heavier with each door I opened. I bought a breezy teal dress that made my new tan pop and flowed around my legs, landing at my knees. I also found a fabulous new pair of silver sandals that shone in the sunlight.
