Such Great Heights

by Sydney Logan

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Ryder. Can I show you something?”

  Ryder glances at both of us before nodding. Dr. Jane leads us to a small room with a table and a few chairs. It kind of reminds me of one of the interrogation rooms at the police station. The only difference is the huge wall of glass that separates this room from what seems to be a playroom. It’s filled with books, art easels, and a play kitchen. A sandbox sits in the middle of the room, an inflatable clown stands in the corner, and various stuffed animals and small musical instruments litter the bookshelves.

  “See this window?” Dr. Jane asks. “What do you see in the next room?”

  Ryder’s eyes light up. “Toys!”

  We laugh.

  “That’s where you and I will talk, Ryder. We’ll play and talk about whatever you want to talk about. And your dad and Olivia will stay in this room and watch us through the glass.”

  Relief floods me. I knew we probably wouldn’t be able to hear what they talk about, but I’m relieved that we can watch.

  Dr. Jane then leads us next door to the playroom. Ryder glances at the window and immediately notices something isn’t right.

  “Why can’t we see the other room?”

  “Because this window is a special mirror. Your dad and Olivia will be able to see us, but we can’t see them.”

  Ryder’s head creases with confusion. “That’s a weird window.”

  Dr. Jane laughs. “You’re right.”

  “Daddy and ‘Livia can’t stay with us?”

  I brace myself.

  “They can for a few minutes,” the doctor says sweetly. “But then it’ll just be you and me, and they will watch us through the window. Okay?”

  Ryder’s eyes flicker to the two of us, and we both nod and smile.

  “Great! Just one more thing. Ryder, I want you to know that I’m so happy you’re here and I can’t wait to get to know you. I also want you to know that anything you and I talk about in the playroom will be private. Do you know what that means?”

  “Like a secret?”

  “Yes. It means you can tell me anything, and I can’t share it with anybody unless you tell me to. I will talk to your dad a lot and let him know how you’re doing, but I can’t tell him anything we talk about. Do you understand?”

  Ryder nods.

  “Wonderful. Now, I’d like to talk to your dad and Olivia. Why don’t you go play?”

  “With anything I want?”

  “With anything you want.”

  Ryder lets go of our hands and heads straight to the sandbox. Dr. Jane leads us to an adult-sized sofa and chair.

  “It’s very nice to meet you both.” The doctor smiles at each of us. “Mr. Healey, I’m to assume you would like Olivia to be involved in this conversation?”

  “In all conversations.”

  “Good. Now, why don’t the two of you tell me about Ryder?”

  I’m a successful lawyer and can talk to a judge or jury without breaking a sweat, but I’ve never been good at talking about myself. So, spilling my guts to this stranger about something so profoundly personal makes me uncomfortable and, quite frankly, nauseous. But I know I have to do it if I want my son to get the help he needs. For the next few minutes, I describe the misery that was my life with Ryder’s mother and how awful our lives have been since she walked out. I talk about the ridiculous rules and lack of motherly affection, and I tell her how his tantrums have turned violent. Then, I tell her about Olivia and the miraculous progress she’s made with him in such a short time.

  Dr. Jane listens intently, taking down notes and watching Ryder as he plays.

  “Olivia, it certainly sounds like you’ve been a godsend.”

  Olivia shrugs, but I can tell she’s pleased—and maybe a little embarrassed—by the praise. “It’s only been a couple weeks, but he does seem calmer . . . that is, until I took a day off.”

  “He has separation issues, absolutely. Any child in his situation would. We can work on that. We’ll establish some boundaries so that we don’t have a burned-out nanny and so that you and Ryder can share a healthy relationship. He has to learn that you can’t be with him 24/7 and that it’s okay for you to go away, because you’ll always come back. For now, anyway.”

  Olivia frowns. “What do you mean—for now?”

  “Well . . . this is a job, Olivia. Nannies come and go, even in the best situations. Unless you plan to make this a career, the day will come when you’ll leave for good. You’ll get a teaching job and move on to the next chapter of your life. Ryder needs to foster the skills to deal with that, for when the time comes.”

  I keep my eyes fixed on my son.

  “But we’ll work on that in time,” Dr. Jane assures us. She then stands and shakes our hands. “I’d like to spend the rest of the time getting to know Ryder. If you don’t mind waiting in the other room? You won’t hear our conversation, but you’ll be able to see everything. Ryder?”

  My son looks up from his sandcastle.

  “Your dad and Olivia are going to wait in the other room while we play.”

  A little hesitantly, Ryder glances at the mirror before giving us a nod.

  “We’ll come get you in forty minutes,” the doctor says with a smile. “My receptionist will make you comfortable while you wait.”

  We thank the doctor before heading to the next room.

  The receptionist is waiting for us.

  “Here are some insurance forms, our privacy notice, and Ryder’s appointment schedule for the month,” she says. “Can I get you coffee or tea?”

  I glance at Olivia, who shakes her head.

  “We’re good. Thank you.”

  “Let me know if you have any questions.”

  And with that, she’s gone.

  I loosen my tie. “I hate this.”

  “Jackson, it’s going to be fine.”

  “I wish I shared your confidence.”

  Olivia sighs and sits down at the table. I join her, and the two of us stare through the glass. Ryder’s still in the sandbox, but now, he’s arranging little green army men in strategic patterns. Dr. Jane watches him closely and jots down notes.

  “Would you like for me to fill out the forms?” Olivia asks.

  “Yes, please.”

  I hand her the clipboard. The questions range from Ryder’s eating and sleeping patterns to how many times he goes to the bathroom each night. She knows all the answers, of course, so I sit stiffly and gaze at my son through the window. From what I can tell, he hasn’t said a word since we left the room.

  Dr. Jane seems to take it all in stride—making notes whenever he becomes fixated on a particular toy or when he becomes agitated with the tool bench. Unable to get the square peg through the round hole, Ryder finally throws the hammer across the room. Olivia and I both jump to our feet, ready for the inevitable tantrum that’s sure to come, but the little boy just slumps to the ground.

  The doctor is by his side in an instant. We can’t hear a thing, of course, but he nods a few times while his eyes flicker to the mirror.

  My arms ache to reach through the glass to hold him.

  This father’s going to crack under the pressure, and it’s just the first session.

  “He’s okay, Jackson.”

  I’m momentarily ripped out of my mental anguish when I feel Olivia’s warm hand reach for mine. She gives it a comforting squeeze before turning her attention back to the forms. While she writes, I glance in her direction, watching her intently as she concentrates on the paperwork. She really has no idea how lovely she is. Granted, she has the greenest, warmest eyes I’ve ever seen, but Olivia’s beauty goes far beyond her outward appearance. She’s good. Patient. Kind. She’s devoting every minute of her life to my son. I pay her well, but truthfully, there’s not enough money in my checking account to properly thank her for what she’s doing for my family.

  “Time’s up,” Olivia says.

  Looking through the glass, I watch as Dr. Jane takes Ryder by the hand and l
eads him out of the playroom. Olivia and I plaster on smiles as the two of them walk through the door. Ryder rushes to my side.

  “Hi, Daddy. Hi ‘Livia.”

  I tousle his hair. “Hey, buddy. Did you have a good talk?”

  Ryder shrugs.

  “We had a great first visit,” Dr. Jane says. “Does the schedule work for you? I think two sessions per week for now.”

  I nod.

  “Great. Thanks for filling out the forms. Ryder, I’ll see you Thursday at 4:00. Have a good week. I’ll walk you out.”

  Olivia and I thank her before the three of us head to the car. Just before I unlock the door, I notice an ice cream shop across the street.

  “You know what I think?”

  “What, Daddy?”

  “I think we should start a tradition. We’ll come see Dr. Jane twice a week, and after, we’ll go for ice cream. What do you think?”

  I point toward the little shop, and Ryder’s eyes grow wide.

  “And ‘Livia, too?”

  We laugh.

  “Of course. Olivia, too. Let’s go.”

  “It’s such a beautiful day,” Olivia says.

  “It certainly is.”

  The three of us sit at one of the shaded picnic tables outside the ice cream shop. Ryder talks nonstop about the games he played during his session. Curiosity gnaws at me, but Olivia and I don’t ask questions. After a while, he grows bored, so Olivia reaches into her bottomless tote bag and pulls out a coloring book and crayons.

  “Wow. Talk about prepared.”

  “It’s my Nanny Pack.”

  I grin. “Do you really call it that?”

  “Yep. Never leave home without it. I’ve got Uno cards. Travel games. Fruit snacks. Five year olds can get restless. I’m ready for anything.”

  Laughing, I watch as Ryder turns to a random page. He asks Olivia to color the flowers at the bottom of the coloring sheet, so she slides close and reaches for a yellow crayon.

  Ryder shakes his head. “No, ‘Livia.”

  “No, what?”

  “Roses are red.”

  “Some roses are red,” Olivia says as she colors the petals. “But some are yellow. Some are white. Some are pink.”

  “No. Roses are red. That’s the rule.”

  Her crayon freezes on the page.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Mommy.”

  I stiffen. It’s the first time he’s mentioned Natasha in months.

  Olivia glances at me before focusing on her coloring page once again.

  “Mommy likes red flowers?” she asks softly.

  Ryder doesn’t look up from the page. “No. Flowers make Mommy sneeze. But that’s the rule. Roses are red.”

  Olivia frowns. I shrug helplessly. I don’t know anything about coloring rules, but honestly, I wouldn’t put it past her. Natasha was a lunatic.

  “Actually, flowers can be lots of different colors,” Olivia says.

  “Not just red?”

  “Nope.”

  Ryder puckers his lips in concentration before timidly reaching for a purple crayon.

  He then colors the rose.

  And it’s not red.

  A little later, Olivia and I take Ryder by the hand and walk along the sidewalk, looking at the shop windows. Her eyes light up when she spots a florist, and I can’t help but laugh when she pulls us into the little shop to show my son that, sure enough, roses can come in all different colors.

  While Olivia talks to the florist, I kneel in front of my son and whisper in his ear.

  “Hey, why don’t you pick out a flower for Olivia?”

  He laughs and pulls me toward a display of freshly cut roses. Ryder’s eyes are bright with excitement as he completely ignores the red flowers and plucks a yellow rose from a vase. I watch with amazement as he rushes to Olivia’s side and gently tugs on the leg of her jeans until she finally looks down at him. She gasps in surprise when Ryder offers her the rose.

  “Is this for me?” she asks.

  Ryder nods enthusiastically, and Olivia leans down to kiss my son’s cheek. Without a word, I hand my credit card to the florist. I don’t even look at the receipt before signing it. He could’ve charged me a thousand bucks for that single rose, and it would’ve been worth every penny just to see the expression on their faces.

  As we walk back to the car, I help Ryder into his booster seat before closing the door. When I turn around, Olivia’s standing there, gazing down at the rose in her hand. With her hair blowing in the breeze and the sweet expression on her face, I know I’ve never seen anyone look more at peace. Or more beautiful.

  She looks up at me then, and she smiles before rising on her tiptoes and kissing my cheek. My eyes close as her sweet lips linger on my skin.

  “Thank you for the flower,” she says.

  “You’re welcome.” And then, because it’s been such a perfect day, I decide to throw caution to the wind. “Olivia, I have two tickets to a charity function. I’d love to take you.”

  Her eyes widen with surprise, and for a moment, I’m terrified she’ll say no. She should say no. By inviting her, I’m ignoring that boundary that keeps our relationship uncomplicated and professional. It’s a mistake, trying to cross that imaginary line in the sand.

  Does she want to cross it, too?

  “I’d love to go,” she says.

  “Have I mentioned how much I hate shopping?”

  “Once or twice,” Dana says with an exasperated sigh as she digs through the rack. “Angel, where’s that blue dress with the ruffles?”

  I groan. “No ruffles!”

  Shopping with Angel and Dana is always an exhausting experience, and today is no exception. Our day so far has consisted of the girls dragging me through the most expensive boutiques in Nashville and pointing me toward the nearest comfy chair. I play on my phone while my friends search through the racks. When they find something they like—and something I can afford—I’m sent to the dressing room while they hunt for shoes. They’re like a well-oiled fashion machine, and I’m grateful, because I have no idea what I’m doing.

  “Try these on,” Dana says, handing me two dresses. “And don’t look at the price tags.”

  “I never should’ve told you about that platinum card.”

  “What? This is a work-related expense.”

  “I don’t think an evening gown qualifies.”

  She rolls her eyes and points me toward the dressing room.

  I can count on one hand the number of fancy events I’ve been forced to attend, but this one’s different. This is a charity benefit hosted by Jackson’s law firm, and it’s a big deal to their family, according to Dana. I’m a nervous wreck, but excited, too. Maybe because I’m looking forward to a kid-free night out on the town. Or maybe, it’s because Jackson and I have a date.

  I think it’s a date, anyway. And I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that.

  “Does it fit?” Angel yells through the door.

  “I think. Come zip me.”

  As soon as she walks in, her mouth drops.

  “You look amazing,” she says, zipping me up.

  I gaze at myself in the mirror. “You think? It’s not too . . . red?”

  “It’s gorgeous. Let me find a small clutch to match.”

  Angel dutifully races away just as Dana appears, holding a pair of strappy heels. I fearfully eye their treacherous height.

  “You look hot. Jackson won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

  “Dana, it’s not like that. He just had an extra ticket.”

  “Is that what he said?”

  “No, but—”

  “Olivia, that charity benefit has been sold out for months. He could go alone. He wants to take you. Now try on these heels.”

  I ignore the butterflies in my stomach while slipping the death traps on my feet.

  “Found a clutch!” Angel says. “Don’t look at the price tag.”

  “You know, girls, I bet that platinum card has a limit.�
��

  “And I bet we’re nowhere near close to it.” She looks at Angel. “What about jewelry?”

  Angel tilts her head. “I have a pair of diamond studs she can borrow. I think that’s all it needs.”

  “Agreed. Now, get dressed and let’s find something for me.”

  While Dana shops for herself, I check my phone. I have a text from Dr. Jane’s receptionist to remind me about Ryder’s appointment. Therapy seems to be working, and he absolutely loves school. It’s like he’s a totally different kid than the one I met that very first day.

  Dana slides a bracelet on her wrist. “I’m so glad you’re going to the gala, Liv. My brother will actually enjoy himself this year.”

  “He doesn’t usually have a good time?”

  She shakes her head. “He was always too busy keeping his drunk wife out of the other lawyers’ laps. Jackson always said it was the most embarrassing night of his life. And he had to re-live it, every single year.”

  She slips off the bracelet and looks for a matching set of earrings before heading to the dresses.

  “This seems backwards,” I whisper to Angel. “Who chooses their accessories first?”

  We watch as Dana grabs the first dress on the rack and heads to the dressing room.

  “I’m so jealous,” Angel sighs wistfully.

  “Dana offered to get you tickets.”

  “I know, but Eric has a gig that night.”

  “Eric? The vegan waiter’s a musician, too?”

  “Plays piano. He’s amazing, Liv.”

  “Does he give lessons? Ryder needs a new music teacher.”

  While Mrs. Langham’s fingers were recovering nicely, we knew she’d never step foot back inside the penthouse.

  “He has some piano students. I’ll ask if he has room for one more.”

  “Thanks, Angel.”

  Neither of us are surprised when Dana reappears, dress in hand and ready to check out.

  “Fits like a glove, I suppose?”

  She grins. “Yes. And I already have shoes, so let’s get out of here because I’m starving.”