Page 106 of The Broken Heart Playlist
She pops her bubblegum. “I’m Tasia. The fairy you asked for.”
“No,” I tell her firmly. “You’re at the wrong house.”
“Don’t think so.” She glances at the pretty colorful balloons I’ve tied to the mailbox outside. “This looks like a birthday girl’s house.” She consults her phone. “The birthday girl is Lisset, right?”
“Yes.” Dismay spikes inside me. “But I requested a fairy. Why are you dressed like that?”
Tasia looks bored. “I’m a goth fairy.”
I shake my head. “There’s no such thing.”
Now she looks affronted. “Of course there is. I’m part of a new generation of unconventional party entertainers.”
I’m still shaking my head. No, this can’t be happening. I’m trapped in someone else’s nightmare. “I don’t want an unconventional fairy,” I get out. “My nine-year-old daughter wants a conventional fairy.”
“It’s good to challenge norms and stereotypes,” Tasia replies. “Your girl is never too young to learn.”
I glare at her. “All I wanted today was a fairy, not a lecture.”
“Chill. She’ll get her fairy. I’ve even got wings.” Tasia reaches into an oversized bag hanging from her shoulder and pulls out black wings that look like they belong on an avenging angel. They also look like they’d scare the life out of every single girl present. No one wants Maleficent at a children’s party. I’d be buried under bills for all the therapist fees afterward.
“Look, this isn’t going to work,” I say to the...whatever it is. “You’re too scary for the kids.”
“Seriously?”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
With a muttered expletive, the black-clad fairy storms into a battered car and roars off down the street.
I don’t know how long I simply stand there in the entryway. I’m the person who anticipates complications and prepares for setbacks, but I’ve dropped the ball with Lisset’s party. I have no contingency plan.
“Mom, where’s the fairy?” Lisset asks.
I close the front door and turn to face her. “The fairy didn’t work out, Lis.”
Disappointment, followed by alarm, chases across her face. “But I want a fairy!”
“I know.” I swallow. “I could raid my wardrobe and try to be one.”
Lisset gives a vehement head shake. “No.”
I’m not offended. We both know I’m not fairy material.
“What about Auntie Tess?” she asks, hope flaring across her face.
If anyone could pull it off, it’ll be Tess. She’s that mix of fun and zany that the kids will respond to, but she and Aaron are spending today at a spa after a crazy few weeks of deadlines. They deserve this break. I know my sister, though. If I call her, she’ll drop everything and rush over to help me, but they’re already taking Lisset out to dinner tonight and then having her sleep over. I can’t ask her to give up her day as well.
“Auntie Tess is away for the day,” I tell Lisset. “She won’t be able to help us.”
Tears fill Lisset’s eyes. We’ve been planning this party for weeks and she was so looking forward to it. Now, we have no bounce castle and no fairy entertainer. My chest tightens. I have to fix this.
“We can play pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, Duck, Duck, Goose,” I suggest.
“Mom, we’re too old for those games.”
My shoulders sag a bit. “Okay.”
I rack my brain for more ideas. I’m a problem solver. I can do this. I solve problems at work all the time. But those problems suddenly seem straightforward compared to the one facing me now. My daughter’s huge dark eyes stare at me expectantly, waiting to see what rabbit I can pull out of a hat.
