Wrong Place, Right Time

by Elle Casey

  I drop my purse to the floor and crouch down with my arms open, looking at my son with pity in my eyes. “Come see Mama, baby.”

  Sammy jumps off the chair and runs over, throwing himself into my embrace. He doesn’t say anything; he simply cries.

  I stand on unsteady feet and practically collapse into the chair in front of Sharon’s desk, my purse somehow getting tangled in my feet. Sammy is clinging to me like a monkey, and all I can do is look over his shoulder at her with questions in my eyes.

  Sharon sits down in her seat with her hands folded, placing them in front of her on the desktop. “We’ve been having a little bit of trouble recently, and Sammy was in my office so that we could discuss it. After talking to him, I decided it was probably a good idea that you and I have a little conference.”

  Oh, boy. Here it comes. If she tells me that Sammy can’t come to the daycare anymore, I’m going to lose my mind. It’s one thing to freelance from home, but it’s a whole other thing to try to work and watch Sammy at the same time. It just can’t happen. I’m only one person, not three.

  “I knew something was going on here, because Sammy has been telling me he has stomachaches before school every day. And you know how much he loves it here . . . or used to love it here. I don’t think he’s very happy anymore.” I try to detach Sammy from my neck so I can look into his face, but the harder I try, the more he clings to me. He’s obviously not ready to talk about it, so I let him wallow in his misery as I continue with the director.

  She nods. “Sammy has been having some difficulties with a couple of other children. These are kids who he used to get along with, but for some reason, there’s a conflict now. I don’t know that anyone is at fault, per se, but certainly there’s some behavior on both sides that I don’t condone. It’s not something we can have here at Sunnyside Daycare.”

  I’m trying not to get defensive, but it’s hard. She’s giving me the distinct impression that she believes Sammy to be a troublemaker. And while I know he’s very high-energy and he likes to tease, my baby doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. He’s usually the one at the bottom of the heap when there’s a pile-on.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” I ask. “Do you have details?”

  “We’re still investigating. But what I can tell you is that there was some shoving, and there were some children who were injured.”

  I force Sammy’s head back a little so I can take a closer look at his face. He couldn’t be more pitiful, but I don’t see any bruises or cuts anywhere. “Sammy, tell me what happened. I’m not blaming you for anything; I just want to know.”

  Sammy shakes his head and tries to dive back into my chest. I think he feels guilty, but that’s not all that’s going on here. If he were the bully, or if he were the one causing all the trouble, he wouldn’t have a stomachache; he’d still want to go to school. It’s going to take some finesse to get to the bottom of it, and it’s not going to happen here in this office. Not this close to the scene of the crime.

  I sigh heavily. “I have to work tomorrow, but then I can take a few days off and talk to Sammy and figure out what’s going on from his end.”

  Sharon gives me a funny look. She seems decidedly uncomfortable when she responds. “You see, though, the problem is, I’m not sure we can take Sammy tomorrow.”

  It takes my brain several long seconds to process that little nugget of awful. “Why not?” I’m actually pretty proud of myself, how I’m maintaining a hold on my temper, because this woman is seriously asking for me to lose my mind and Hulk-out right here in her office.

  She’s a daycare director. She knows better. You don’t tell a working single mother in the late afternoon on a Thursday that her kid can’t come in the next day without any kind of prior warning. And you sure as crap don’t say it in front of her kid!

  “The parents of the other children involved are not happy with the fact that their children were physically abused.”

  I stand and hold my hand out awkwardly; Sammy is still thinking he wants to crawl into my blouse. “Stop right there. Just stop. You’ve known my son for over a year. You know as well as I do that he is not a mean person. He would never just hurt somebody out of the blue for no reason. That’s not who he is.”

  Sharon nods and closes her eyes. “I realize that. I also know that he has some things going on, and some issues that you need to address at home. These are things that we can’t do anything about here at the school.”

  I frown at her. What in the hell is she talking about? “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” My arms are about to fall off. Sammy is so heavy, he feels like a bag of bricks. “Can you just stop running around in circles and tell me what you really mean?”

  Sharon takes her time answering. When she finally does, she’s cringing as she speaks. “You do realize that Sammy has a speech impediment, right?”

  My jaw drops open. All I can do is stare at her. I’m trying to figure out if she’s joking with me, because I can’t imagine what her purpose would be in saying this other than to be cruel and ridiculous. Is she seriously making this about my son’s lisp?

  I guess she’s tired of waiting for me to respond, so she continues. “You know, when children are young, it might seem cute, but as they get older it’s really not cute anymore. And it’s up to the parents to do something about it.”

  I shake my head, stopping her from crossing any further over the line than she already has. “Do not . . . no. Do not go there.” I stand and walk to the door, reaching down to grab my purse on the way. Unfortunately, the strap is tangled around the chair leg, and in my struggle to get it free, I flip the chair over. It makes a loud crashing sound that causes Sammy to start crying again as he climbs up higher into my arms, practically strangling me with his efforts.

  “You don’t have to worry about Sammy tomorrow or ever again.” I throw my purse over my shoulder and turn around to glare at a woman who has a lot of nerve calling herself a director of a daycare. She should go be the director of a damn prison. “I have never been so appalled at someone’s behavior as I am right now with yours. And you call yourself a daycare provider? How dare you.”

  I don’t want to hear what she has to say in defense of her horribly cruel words spoken in front of my son . . . words that should have been kept private between adults . . . because I can’t trust that I won’t slap her across the face after hearing what she says.

  I leave her office as quickly and as gracefully as I can, while my son clings to me like we’re stuck together with Spider-Man’s web glue. It’s only when we’re at the car, standing at the back door with his car seat waiting to take him, that Sammy finally lets go of me and speaks.

  “Mommy, I don’t want to come back here ever again.”

  I use the cheeriest voice I’m capable of when I answer. “Well, guess what . . . you don’t ever have to come back here again. I don’t like this place anymore.”

  Sammy sounds happier already. “I don’t like that plathe at all. Thothe people are mean and they’re thcary too.”

  I talk aimlessly, not sure how to handle this situation, but pretty sure that keeping him talking is a good thing. “You know, I never knew that before. I always thought they were so nice. But apparently they’re mean. And stupid.”

  I’m strapping Sammy into his car seat when he looks at me with a serious expression. “Mommy, that’th not nithe to call people thtupid.”

  Tears rush to my eyes, but I blink them away. “You’re right, baby. It’s not nice to call people stupid even when they’re stupid.”

  Sammy smiles. “You’re funny, Mama.”

  I reach in and squeeze his cheeks together, kissing his pudgy little lips. “You’re funny too. You make me laugh all the time. You’re my best baby boy.”

  “Thophie thayth I’m your only boy, tho if you thay I’m your betht boy it doethn’t really mean anything.”

  I’m going to have to have a talk with Sophie, obviously. She needs to understand how much her brothe
r actually listens to her.

  “I’ll tell you what, Sammy. How about if I tell you right now that you are my favorite littlest child.”

  Sammy gives me a huge grin. “I like that. That’th awethome. I’m your favorite.”

  I wink at him and don’t bother to correct him. “Just don’t tell your sisters I said so.”

  Sammy puts his fingers around his mouth and then throws his hand up.

  I look at him in confusion. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m locking my mouth and throwing the key in the garbage.”

  “I gotcha.” I pat him on the head. “You ready to go see your sisters?”

  “No.” He frowns, losing all of his happy glow in an instant.

  “Why don’t you want to see your sisters? Your sisters love you.”

  “Maybe they’ll make fun of me.” He says it with such a pitiful voice, it makes my heart break.

  “They would never make fun of you for real, Sammy. Only mean people do that, and your sisters are not mean. They might tease you once in a while, but that’s not the same. Do you understand that?”

  He nods, but doesn’t appear to be very convinced. I stand there for a few seconds and sigh. I’m not going to be able to fix this in the parking lot of the daycare from hell.

  I shut his door and get into the front seat, checking my boy in the rearview mirror. “Are we ready to rock ’n’ roll?”

  He nods. “I’m ready to rock ’n’ roll. Ith Dev gonna come to our houthe?”

  I stare at him for a few seconds. “Why would you ask that?”

  He’s looking out the window when he answers. “Becauthe I like him. Maybe he wanth to come over and play with my Thpider-Man. He could borrow it.”

  “Well, as a matter of fact, I’m going to see Dev for dinner tomorrow. So maybe he’ll come inside before we go out to dinner and play with Spider-Man for a little while. Not a long time, just a little while.”

  Sammy is already looking happy at the prospect. “Like an hour. An hour will be good.”

  I shake my head. “No, more like ten minutes.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell him almotht an hour, ’kay?”

  Rather than argue the finer points of timekeeping with my three-year-old, I start the car and begin our trip home. “We’ll see, Sammy, we’ll see.”

  My poor baby with the swollen, bloodshot eyes is sound asleep by the time we arrive home at five o’clock. The school bus pulls up to the stop just down the street as I’m unloading his sleeping form from the car, so I stand in the driveway and wait for my girls. A feeling of joy washes over me as they come running around the corner and across the grass to join us.

  “Who wants pizza?” I ask. I should probably do a better job of cooking for them tonight, but I’m exhausted. Pizza every couple weeks isn’t going to kill them. My Mom of the Year award is going to have to wait. Again.

  The chorus of happy answers is loud enough to wake Sammy up, but when he finds out why they’re so excited, he starts screaming in happiness too. They all tumble into the family room and immediately start playing superhero action figures together. I watch for a little while, letting their joy soothe me. I may not be perfect, but I’m an okay mom most of the time.

  The doorbell rings, startling me from my thoughts, and I walk over to look through the peephole. May is standing there with Ozzie at her side.

  I open the door with a big smile. “What are you guys doing here?”

  May grins back at me. “We thought we’d come over and have dinner with you. Surprise! You have enough for two extra plates?”

  I hold the door open wide, sighing with relief over having adult company for the evening. I love my kids, but I think tonight I could use a nice conversation with my sister. Hopefully Ozzie won’t mind us girl-talking in his presence. “I was just going to order pizza, so there’s always enough for two more.”

  “Excellent.” May walks in and goes immediately into the family room with the kids.

  “Auntie May!” They jump on her all at once and pull her down to the floor. She falls into a pile, collapsing in giggles right along with them.

  I stand in the entrance to the room with Ozzie next to me, watching the love-fest. My heart grows two sizes bigger, stuffing my chest full.

  “She adores those kids,” he says.

  “Can you blame her? They are pretty damn cute, if I do say so myself.” Sammy is clinging to her back while the two girls struggle to get away from the tickle monster who has them pinned to the floor. May uses her best evil laugh to make it that much more exciting for them.

  “They are. She’s going to make a great mom someday herself.”

  I look up at him and narrow my eyes. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  He looks down at me and stares. Before he can respond, though, the doorbell rings again.

  I look at the door. “What the heck? What’s going on?”

  Ozzie shrugs, being the man of few words that he is.

  I point up at his face. “Don’t think you’re getting out of that conversation we were just about to have.”

  It’s possible his mouth quirks up in a shadow of a smile, but I don’t have time to verify; the doorbell is ringing again.

  I check the peephole and panic.

  Dev’s here.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I am not prepared for this. Dev? At my house? With my sister and the kids here? And Ozzie? God, no! Not after the day I’ve had. Part of me wants to turn him away, to tell him that we’re going to be together tomorrow anyway, and I really need to work on the things that Lucky and I collected yesterday at Blue Marine.

  But of course I’m not going to do that. I’ve been thinking about him almost constantly since the last time I saw him, and I’m dying to know if he’s been doing anything like that about me. He probably hasn’t. He’s probably already been on that dating website and found somebody to go out with on Saturday. Just the thought of that allows me to be more subdued than I probably would’ve been when I open the door to let him in.

  “Hey, there . . .” At first my eyes go to Dev, but then they drop to the figure next to him. Time stands still for a few seconds. I know what I’m seeing, but it’s not quite computing.

  A small boy in a wheelchair. And he has Dev’s eyes.

  I look up at the tall man, my smile even brighter. “And you brought your son with you! How exciting!” I look down at his son and lean over with my hand extended. “I’m so happy to meet you! Hi, my name is Jenny. You must be Jacob.”

  “Yes. That’s me.” He smiles.

  I have no idea why Dev’s son is in a wheelchair, but I can see that it would probably be very difficult if not impossible for him to walk. His body is very small and twisted to the side. He looks like he has a severely curved spine.

  I look up at Dev, hoping that my expression is not as crazy as it feels on my face. I’m sure I must look like the Joker, trying so hard not to look weird and unnatural when of course I look weird and unnatural, with a smile that stretches way too far. How could I not? I’m getting a cramp in my left cheek.

  “Hey,” Dev says, almost shyly. “Ozzie and May mentioned they were stopping by, and they said I should come by with Jacob for a few minutes. I told them it was maybe not a great idea, since you had no warning we were coming . . . I tried to text you but didn’t get an answer. I probably should have waited to hear from you . . .”

  I step back quickly and open the door wide. “No, don’t be silly! Of course you should stop by! I’m so glad you came. We were just about to order some pizza. You should join us!” I look down at Dev’s son as he uses a joystick to maneuver his wheelchair over my threshold. “Do you like pizza, Jacob?”

  I hate to admit this even to myself, but I don’t even know if he can eat pizza. I may have just committed a major faux pas by asking. I wasn’t prepared for this. If I’d known he was coming, and that he’s disabled, I could have researched his condition online or talked to someone or something, so I’d know what to do or sa
y without sticking my foot in my mouth. Gah, I hate that I’m this ignorant!

  “Sure, I love pizza,” he says, acting like I’m a totally normal person asking a completely acceptable question.

  Phew. Disaster averted.

  As Dev walks by, I look up and pat him on the shoulder, hoping like hell that all my internal thoughts have not been put on display by my traitor face. “Thanks for coming by.”

  I can see from his expression that he’s nervous or uncomfortable, and I’d hate for him to feel that way because of me and my stupid reaction. He’s probably wondering if he did the right thing by coming here, and I don’t want him to have any doubts about that.

  I used to feel nervous about walking into a room full of strangers with Sammy, knowing they were going to laugh as soon as they heard him speak, but I got used to it. Sammy’s little issue is nothing compared to what Dev and Jacob must deal with, so I want them both to know that in this house they have nothing to worry about. They can be themselves.

  No sooner are those thoughts floating through my mind than I hear Sammy’s voice rise above all the others as the giggles die down. “Who ith that?” he asks.

  I slam the door shut, probably too loudly, and rush to join the others in the family room. I nearly shove Dev out of the way in my effort to get there before Sammy can say anything that will end up hurting somebody’s feelings.

  Before I can say anything, though, the young boy in the wheelchair responds. “I’m Jacob. I’m Dev’s son.”

  I get there in time to see Sammy walking over and standing in front of his chair. “I went to McDonald’th with Dev. He’th cool.”

  Jacob smiles. “Yeah. He is. He takes me to McDonald’s sometimes too.”

  May grabs the two girls and pulls them into her lap so they can sit down and act like they’re not staring at Jacob. She tickles them, but they mostly ignore it, more interested in their brother’s activities. They know he’s going to ferret out the story before anything else happens in this room, unless I can get in there and stop him. I just need to do it without being obvious about it.