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Claire doesn’t like daddy’s new girlfriend Lacy, who is both too pretty and nowhere near as pretty as Mama. (Where did mama go? When will she read Claire to sleep again?)
Claire tries lots of things to get Lacy to go away. She screams and stamps her foot and protests all the way to her time outs, and still daddy drives away on dates with this new woman who isn’t mama, and leaves Claire with Mrs. Robertson the babysitter who always wears stinky perfume and makes Claire eat every single one of her vegetables.
Claire didn’t invite Lacy to her tea party. It’s not her fault daddy’s girlfriend stole the spot at the head of the table, where Claire’s favorite blue teddy bear Space Boy has every right to sit. And even though Claire knows the grown-ups are just killing time before daddy and Lacy go to a premiere, Claire can’t help but feel resentful that her own burgundy romper is being outshone by Lacy’s sequined cocktail dress. So rude to out-dress your host.
So why should Claire get any blame for making Lacy go away?
“What did you learn in school this week?” Lacy asks, munching on Nilla wafers as if she owns the place.
Claire plucks a cube of sugar from the china bowl and pinches it between her fingers. “I wish you’d go away,” she says.
“Are you going on any field trips soon?” Lacy asks, pouring tea into The Kraken’s saucer even though The Kraken hates tea and much prefers ice water.
“Why can’t you just leave daddy alone?” Claire asks, bristling as Lacy helps her pour the tea she brewed (well, daddy helped her brew) from the heavy teapot.
“I like your daddy a lot,” Lacy says, sitting back down, oblivious to the way Space Boy is glaring at her. (Space Boy is very expressive for a teddy bear.)
“I love my daddy the most,” Claire says. She grips her tea spoon very hard in her right hand. “Which is why… which is why… I heard a rumor you left here right now.”
It’s a weird thing to say, Claire knows that, but it feels good, a surge of power her tantrums could never achieve. And Lacy, for her part, blinks.
And stands.
And then shakes her head. And sits again, right between the squishy stuffed tentacles of The Kraken and the knobbly body of the Number Five doll Mrs. Robertson crocheted for Claire.
“Claire,” Lacy says slowly, voice a little distant, “Claire, be nice--”
‘I heard a rumor’ -- those weren’t her words. They were somebody’s words, but not Claire’s.
They're close, though.
“A little birdie told me,” Claire says, plop-plop-plopping three whole sugar cubes into her tea, “that you didn’t come here anymore.”
She feels the words in her chest, and they’re closer but still not quite right, and Lacy looks like half of her is trying to leave and half of her is trying to stay and Lacy speaks again and says Claire’s daddy’s name -- “Patrick?” Lacy says, then, “Patrick!”
Claire reaches for the pitcher of cream, and finds the words that will give her the whole world -- her very own words. “Wouldn’t it be nice,” Claire says, and Lacy’s eyes go as white as the cream, “if you went away?”
Lacy is gone before Patrick makes it down the stairs. He is wearing a tuxedo, maybe the same one he wore to the Oscars with mama, and Claire is setting about rearranging the attendants of her tea party to fill the hole Lacy has left.
“Claire-Bear,” Patrick says, glancing around while trying to tie his bow tie, “did you see where Lacy went?”
Claire shakes her head, humming to herself as she situates Space Boy back at the head of the table, then turns to her father and smiles. “Tea, Daddy?”