Chapter 14: Birthday Without Mom
A few days later, it was my eleventh birthday.
Every year on my birthday, there would be pecan pie I couldn’t usually eat, and a card and socks my mom made for me.
Mom couldn’t really make those things; her cards were messy, and her socks had holes for toes.
But this year there were none of those, because mom always stared at the high White House walls in the distance, lost in thought, sad and upset.
She’d sit on the porch, wrapped in Dad’s old jacket, her eyes never quite meeting mine. I tried to wave at her from the window, but she seemed a thousand miles away.
Then she didn’t eat well and got sick.
Grandpa Joe loved his daughter dearly, so he had dad come back and take mom away, and Lily went too.
Jacob told me all this.
His voice was soft, his face turned away as he broke the news. It felt like losing a piece of myself all over again.
Looking at all the seasonal clothes and pretty jewelry the former First Lady made for me, I sighed that I was truly the richest girl in D.C.
Jacob said I was greedy for money, so I reached out to ask for a birthday present.
He said, "You don’t have to go to the dining room to study and write anymore. I’ll have my mom invite the tutor for you, so you can study at the academy."
I said, "Jacob, you’re so nice."
He knocked my head and said, "Natalie, don’t call me by my first name."
I said, "Okay, Jacob."
When did I stop calling him Brother Jacob? It seems it was in his third month as president.
Without Lily to help with my homework, my knowledge expanded in all directions.
Then I vaguely realized that no matter how many times I missed mom, she would never come to get me again.
I pressed my face to the cold window, hoping maybe I’d see Mom’s car pull up, but all I saw were the blinking city lights. For a while, I blamed Jacob for everything—Lily being gone, Mom not coming back. I knew it wasn’t fair, but missing them made me angry at the world.
But his hugs really did make me feel less sad. I hugged him and cried so hard I couldn’t catch my breath, saying, "Jacob, I miss mom, I miss Lily."
After that, I never called him brother again. When the former First Lady noticed I called him by name, she didn’t say anything.
She just looked at me and said, "That’s fine too."
Her approval felt odd, like a permission I never asked for. But it made things a little easier, just for a moment.