When Jack entered his daughter’s room, Lisa was sitting at her desk, doing homework. An open laptop, scattered pieces of paper, a cup of tea, and fancy headphones over her head—in that light she could easily pass for a first-year college student working in a coffee shop. Thirteen years old wasn’t a joke.


    “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, gently closing the door behind him.


    “Hi,” Lisa replied, barely glancing at him. From that angle, she reminded him of Susan. Same hair, same profile, the same tightly pursed lips she made when focused—or when she was mad at him.


    “I missed you,” Jack said, walking behind his daughter and placing his hands on her shoulders.


    “You pissed Mom off,” Lisa said. She still didn’t look at him. There was a time when she would jump into his arms the moment he entered the house, begging him to play hide-and-seek or some other game, and Jack would gladly oblige. But as she grew older, and Jack spent less and less time with her, the fun had dwindled. He couldn’t even remember the last time they’d done something together—just the two of them.


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    Jack sat on the edge of Lisa’s bed to see her face.


    “Listen, Lisa. I know you’ve heard everything, but…”


    “You missed my recital this week,” she interrupted, pointing to a guitar in the corner. “Are you going to miss my birthday next week, too?”


    “No, no way,” Jack said, moving closer to his daughter. He took her hand and kissed it. For the first time since he’d entered the room, she looked at him. “Look, whatever happens between Mom and me is temporary. I’m going to make it up to both of you.”


    Lisa sighed. “You promise?”


    “I promise,” Jack said, kissing her hand again and smiling. “So, what do you want for your birthday? Please don’t tell me it’s a pony.”


    Lisa put on a mock-surprised expression. “How did you know?” she asked and laughed.


    There were only a few things in life worth living for, and his daughter’s laugh was one of them. It was the laugh you’d expect to hear on every corner of heaven—if heaven even had corners.


    Jack stood up. “Okay, I won’t distract you anymore. Good night.”


    “Night, Dad,” Lisa said, slipping her headphones back on.


    He kissed her on the top of her head and walked toward the door.


    Before closing it, he glanced back at her one more time. Lisa was typing something on her laptop, her head swaying rhythmically to the music. She was alone in her own world—a world where, soon enough, neither he nor Susan would have access. And that was okay. But Jack wished, more than anything, that the moment would never come.


    He gently closed the door.