At birthdays, the gap grew sharper. Daniel’s cake came decorated with sparklers and his favorite baseball motif. Elise’s had layers of frosting, roses piped carefully in pink and white. Miriam’s was smaller, plainer, often from the bakery in town rather than the oven at home.
Her mother tried to make up for it, slipping her extra cookies after dinner, tucking notes into her lunchbox, but Miriam noticed. She couldn’t help it. Children know when they are standing at the edge of affection rather than in its center.