Chapter 15
Lily’s first school day arrived with the forty-five-dollar shoes.
I offered to buy another pair.
She refused.
“These mine.”
Fair.
The scratch from the crystal incident remained along one side.
She liked it.
“Sparkle line.”
Apparently.
Elena fixed her cardigan.
I knelt to tie one lace.
Lily looked at me.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Are my shoes cheap?”
My hands stopped.
Three-year-olds remember sentences adults hope disappear.
“What do you think?”
She looked down.
“They work.”
I smiled.
“Then they’re good shoes.”
“But Celeste said expensive for me.”
There it was.
I tied the second lace.
“Celeste was wrong.”
“How much shoes should Lily get?”
I thought carefully.
“Enough to fit your feet.”
She frowned.
No number.
Unsatisfying.
“And if forty-five?”
“Fine.”
“One hundred?”
“If necessary.”
“One million?”
“No.”
She laughed.
Good.
Then I added:
“Price doesn’t tell you how much you deserve.”
She stared.
Too abstract.
I simplified.
“You deserve shoes that don’t hurt.”
That worked.
She nodded.
At school, another child had glitter sneakers.
Lily admired them for five minutes.
Then ran off.
No status crisis.
Adults invent more hierarchy than children need.
That evening she came home with grass stains across both shoes.
Elena looked horrified.
I almost laughed.
“Let her.”
“They’re new.”
“They’re shoes.”
Lily heard.
Immediately jumped into a puddle outside the door.
Elena stared at me.
“This is your fault.”
Probably.
I watched Lily laugh.
Celeste had turned shoes into proof of worth.
I wanted them returned to what they were.
Things protecting small feet while a child goes somewhere.
May you like
Nothing more.
That mattered.
