The warmth in her voice had made my throat tight. See? I thought. They love Lily. They love us. Everything’s fine.
Two days before the party, I called again—just to confirm, just to make absolutely sure they hadn’t forgotten.
“Of course we remember,” Mom had said, sounding slightly annoyed. “We’re not senile, Sarah.”
“I know, I just wanted to—”
“We’ll be there at two. Don’t worry so much. You’re going to give yourself an ulcer.”
“Okay. Okay, good. See you Saturday.”
“See you Saturday,” she’d echoed, and hung up.
I felt silly checking, but also relieved. They’d be there. My parents would show up for their granddaughter’s fifth birthday, and everything would be fine.
Saturday, October 15th, dawned clear and bright—one of those perfect autumn days in Portland where the air is crisp but the sun is warm, and the leaves are just starting to turn orange and gold. I woke up early, nerves and excitement fizzing in my stomach like champagne.
By 7:00 a.m., I was in the kitchen, starting on the cake. Marcus found me at 7:30, already covered in flour, humming along to the radio.
“You’re up early,” he said, kissing the top of my head.
“Big day,” I replied, carefully folding chocolate into the batter. “I want everything to be perfect.”
“It will be,” he assured me. “Lily’s going to have the best time.”
By noon, the apartment was transformed. Streamers in pink and purple crisscrossed the ceiling. A hand-lettered banner reading “Happy 5th Birthday Lily!” hung over the couch. Dollar-store tablecloths covered our hand-me-down furniture. The cake sat in the refrigerator, frosted in pink with purple flowers I’d painstakingly piped around the edges. It wasn’t professional, but it was made with love.
Lily emerged from her room at 1:00 p.m., dressed in the purple dress we’d bought special for today—one of the few times we’d splurged on something new for her. Her eyes went wide when she saw the decorations.
“It’s so pretty!” she squealed, spinning in a circle. “It’s the best party ever!”
“The party hasn’t even started yet,” Marcus laughed.
“I know, but it’s already the best!”
The first guests arrived at 2:05—Emma from kindergarten and her mom, carrying a wrapped present. Then Michael and his dad. Then Sofia and both her parents. By 2:20, all six kindergarten friends were there, running around the living room with the kind of chaotic energy that only small children possess.
But no grandparents.
I checked my phone. No messages, no missed calls. Maybe they were just running late. Traffic could be unpredictable, even on a Saturday afternoon.
