She had saved enough from her bookstore job.
But Nicole told Richard the program was too expensive and that Maya was neglecting schoolwork.
Richard remembered the conversation.
He had been standing outside a construction site with a telephone pressed to his ear.
Nicole sounded frustrated.
She said Maya had become obsessed with photography and was refusing to prioritize practical responsibilities.
Richard had told Nicole to handle it.
He had not asked Maya.
Now he looked at his daughter.
"Did you want to attend that workshop?"
Her expression crumpled.
"More than anything."
His chest tightened.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Maya stared at him.
"I tried."
Richard remembered vaguely.
A conversation in the kitchen.
Maya standing beside him holding a brochure.
His phone ringing.
Him promising they would discuss it later.
They never did.
Maya continued.
"Nicole said you already decided."
He slowly shook his head.
"I never did."
She gave a bitter laugh.
"I know that now."
For a moment, Richard could not speak.
Then Ethan quietly raised his hand.
Richard turned.
"What is it, buddy?"
The boy looked nervous.
"She told me not to bother you."
Richard frowned.
"When?"
Ethan swallowed.
"A lot."
He looked toward Maya.
"When I wanted to show you my science project, she said you were working."
Richard remembered the science fair.
He had arrived late.
Nicole told him Ethan had not seemed interested in participating.
He assumed the boy was growing out of school activities.
Now Ethan stared at his shoes.
"I built the volcano by myself."
Richard's throat tightened.
"I remember."
Ethan shook his head.
"You saw it after."
He looked up.
"I wanted you to come when it worked."
Richard lowered his eyes.
The boy continued.
"Nicole said you were too busy to watch a bunch of kids make fake lava."
For a long moment, Richard could not move.
He had thought of himself as a good father.
A hardworking father.
A man who kept the bills paid and the house safe.
He did love his children.
Deeply.
But he had gradually allowed Nicole to control the information reaching him.
She decided which problems were important.
Which conversations could wait.
Which school events deserved attention.
Which memories of Laura were healthy.
And which were evidence of Maya's supposed inability to move forward.
Richard had not simply been deceived.
He had also been absent.
Not physically all the time.
But emotionally.
His children had been living with him while learning to expect very little of him.
He looked toward Maya.
"Why didn't you tell me she was hitting you?"
She stared.
Richard immediately understood the assumption inside his question.
He corrected himself.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask it like that."
Maya looked down.
For several moments, she said nothing.