"Hearing isn't choosing."
"I know."
They went back inside. Sophie had lined the wrapped gifts in a row and was reading the tags aloud to the dolphin, which she had brought down for moral support. "This one is from Uncle Daniel. This one is from Grandma. This one says from Daddy with too many x's." She looked up, hopeful and wary in the same small face. "Do we still open them, or are presents canceled?"
Jason glanced at Rachel. Rachel knelt so Sophie would not have to look up at the wreckage of adult decisions. "Presents aren't canceled," she said. "The party had a terrible middle. The love that bought these is still real. We can open them tonight, the three of us, no balloons if the balloons are too much. You can be in charge of the order."
"I'm in charge of the order," Sophie repeated, testing the power, and some color came back into the morning.
Rachel stood and began, at last, to take down the balloons. They squeaked in her hands, cheap and golden, the sound of a celebration being dismantled by the person who had ruined it. She did not ask Jason to help. He helped anyway. They worked from opposite ends of the room, not touching, and when their hands met on the same ribbon they both let go at once, and the balloon rose to the ceiling and stayed there, a last witness, until Sophie, official in her cardigan, fetched a chair and ended it herself.