Manhattan, January 2009.

Jessica Van Lange, age 7

"But I don't understand!  Why is mommy leaving?  Why is everyone leaving?"

"Jessica, you know very well that your mother only came for the funeral.  She lives in London and she has since the divorce."

"But. ." My eyes welling with tears. "But I'm lonely. . . I have no one."

"That's not true.  You have me."

I look to my father and crease my brows.  Dad is never home.  Everyone I love leaves me.

"Well despite what you might think, you do have me.  And I love you very very much."

I huff, cross my arm, and turn the opposite way.

"Jessica. ."

"Can Sarah come over?"

"Not tonight.  That little girl doesn't know how to behave."

Once again I huff in frustration. "See? I have no one. . ." My head hanging and tears forming in my eyes.

"Darling. . please.  What about Janie?" Janie, the housekeeper.  More like a mother to me than my own mother.  She's been here since I was four years old.  She cares for me daily.  I love her.  But I am seven, and she has to be like- like thirty five at least!  That's a lot of numbers away from seven!

Dad smiled down to me and gently patted the top of my head.  The most compassion he's shown in a while. "It'll get better, little one." He says.

My doubtful face looking back up to him with crossed arms.  He sighed and said, "Janie.  Will you take Jessica back to her room please?"

"Yes sir.  Come on, Jessie!" Janie said with a beautiful full smile.

I take her hand and obey.

This sucks.