Brother’s Best Friend

by Black, Natasha L.

“Cole, you’re going to need a child therapist. If you book her any appointment first, that has to be the one. She’s going to need a professional to help her deal with the grief of losing her mother and all the things Susie taught her along the way.”

  “Yeah. Definitely. I’ll research some in the area today.”

  “What’s your email?”

  I rattled it off.

  “I’m going to send over some resources through the county related to school. People that will get Millie evaluated to see what kind of help she needs before you look at enrolling her. You know, they’ll test her aptitude and speech and motor skills.”

  “There are people that will do that for her?”

  “Oh, yes. The county offers a lot of services.”

  A few seconds later my phone lit up. Holy shit, the woman was a lifesaver. And as I scrolled through the email at the list of links, I put her on speakerphone.

  “Depending on what they say once they get her evaluated, they might choose to hold her off from school until next year or have her start a year behind her age. I know some recommend tailored services before they enroll, and I know some urge parents to enroll them while getting those services. It all depends on where she is with basic knowledge and the skill set she needs for kindergarten,” Layla said.

  “What kind of things does she need to know?” I asked.

  “Oh, the basics. How to write her name. Her numbers up to twenty. A general identifying of colors. There’s more to it, but that’s the gist.”

  “Do you think you could get her into your school?”

  She paused. “I mean, I can try. But until you can get her evaluated, tutoring services will help you out there.”

  “Wow. Okay.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m throwing a lot at you right now. Just take a breath and let it sink in.”

  “So, list. If I were to do this as a checklist.”

  She giggled. “Find a child therapist first. Once you find someone you can call, hop to that email and read through the links. Schedule someone to come out and evaluate her, then go from there.”

  “You mean call you and ask your advice again.”

  She laughed. “Or do that.”

  “I’m serious, Layla. Thank you so much for all this.”

  “It’s really nothing. I’m glad you called.”

  “I’m glad I did, too.”

  There was a beat of pause between us before I cleared my throat.

  “Anyway, I should get inside and start breakfast,” I said.

  “Did you get anything at the store she leaned toward?”

  “The only thing she was adamant about was peach oatmeal. That’s what kicked off the first tantrum. I couldn’t find peach-flavored oatmeal. So, I bought regular oatmeal and got peaches.”

  “The first?”

  “Yeah. The trip was rough. She kept her hands over her ears for most of it. I think it was too loud for her?”

  “Huh.”

  “What?”

  She paused. “I don’t want to scare you with this, but when you’re filling out the evaluation form I sent to your inbox, make a note that you’re concerned about autism or a possible sensory condition.”

  I paused. “You think Millie’s autistic?”

  “I think she presents with some patterns that are stereotypical. It’ll be better for them to be aware of it so they can dig deeper.”

  I closed my eyes. “Okay. Thank you.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll send another email this afternoon with the bullet points.”

  “That’s going to be much better.”

  The two of us shared a small moment of laughter before we ended the phone call. I needed to get inside and start making breakfast anyway. I hung up the phone, albeit reluctantly, then found myself back in the kitchen. I sliced some peaches and heated cream and sugar on the stove before throwing in oatmeal to cook up.

  Hopefully, she likes it.

  I lost myself so much in the cooking and everything Layla had thrown at me that I didn’t hear Millie come into the kitchen. It wasn’t until I turned off the stove and went to go wake her up that I found her sitting at the kitchen table, smiling at me.

  Her first real smile, all for me.

  Holy shit, I might be able to do this.

  “Morning, pretty girl,” I said with a grin.

  She waved at me softly before placing her hands in her lap.

  “So, I know we had a little issue with the peach oatmeal yesterday. But I made some fresh for you. Wanna give it a try?”

  She nodded her head, and I scooped a little into a bowl for her. She smelled it before taking a small taste. Then, she laid into it, heaping scoops into her mouth, and it made me feel more capable as a parent. I spooned more into her bowl, watching her devour it before I got her a glass of water.

  I had a grip on this. I could do this. I’d get this parenting thing down just fine.

  But by lunchtime, that grip had slipped.

  “No,” Millie said.

  “It’s nap time. You have to sleep.”

  “I don’t wanna.”

  “Millie. Come upstairs with me.”

  “No!” she screamed.

  “Do you want to nap somewhere else, then? The couch? My recliner?”

  And out of nowhere, she threw her fists into the hallway wall.

  She beat on the wall and screamed at the top of her lungs. I stood there, watching her, and it took all I had not to curse my late sister. All day, Millie wanted nothing except cartoons and snacks. Gummy snacks I didn’t have. Sour Patch Kids I never brought into the house. Chocolate snacks I hadn’t had in years. Nothing but junk. And if I turned off the cartoons to suggest we do something else, she curled up into a ball and held her breath.

  I sighed as I walked around her, letting her beat her fists against the wall. I was tired. Drained. I didn’t have the energy to fuss with the stubborn girl any longer. I reached for a bottled water out of the refrigerator and sighed. I cracked it open, then closed my eyes, trying to fall back into my thoughts as Millie’s screams filled the hallway. It sounded like someone was trying to kill her.

  I half expected the police to pull into our driveway in the next few minutes.

  I tried to remind myself of the environment she was raised in. Wary of men. Always cautious around them. It made sense why she didn’t want to go upstairs with me. I should’ve thought that one through a little more. But was she really used to cartoons all day? Eating junk all afternoon?

  While Susie snorted herself stupid in the bathroom?

  I shook the thought away from my head. I opened my eyes and chugged as the girl’s cries finally calmed down. I made a silent vow to myself to be patient, not to push too hard too fast. She’d been through so very much in her young life that she didn’t have the capacity to understand. It wasn’t her fault she had no appropriate coping mechanisms yet. I’d have to teach her. I tried to look past all the things my sister should have done and focused on the things I needed to do. How I needed to be Millie’s rock. Her soft place to fall. Someone she could trust in and lean against.

  If she’d stop screaming long enough.

  My cell phone started ringing in the living room, and I moved to get it. The second I moved, Millie stopped throwing a fit. I furrowed my brow as I set my water bottle down, making my way for the couch. I picked up my phone and saw my assistant Joe calling, and immediately I thought something was wrong at work.

  I picked up the call, just as Millie found me and started throwing her tantrum again.

  “Hey, Joe. Everything okay?” I asked, covering my other ear with my hand so I could hear him over the tantrum.

  “Just calling to check in on you. Haven’t heard from you in a few days. But it sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

  I walked away from Millie again, and she stopped screaming and crying. Until she got me back in her sights.

  Ah, so we’re going to play that game.

  “It’s been an adjustment. But we’re getting there
. What’s up?” I asked.

  “Just wanted to give you the weekly rundown of the jobs. And see how you were holding up?” Joe asked.

  “Let’s get through the rundown before we talk about personal things. There are some important projects you’re managing, and I’m a bit nervous.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be offended by that.”

  I sighed. “It’s not that. It’s just—”

  He chuckled. “Hey, man, I get it. It’s okay. You’ve never taken time away from the business before like this. I got it.”

  “I know you do. It’s why I left you in charge.”

  “Ready for the rundown?”

  I gave Joe the go-ahead to start, all the while making Millie follow me from room to room and wearing her out enough to justify a nap on the couch.

  7

  Layla

  Monday was long. After tending to five different rotations of unruly kindergarteners that wanted to do nothing more than paint one another instead of their pictures, I finally got to my planning period, which gave me time to go up to the office to see about enrollment paperwork. I talked with the school counselor about what Cole would need to get Millie enrolled. Then, I picked up some last-minute things on children with IEPs, or individual educational plans, in schools, material Cole could read in order to familiarize himself more with this process.

  Then, I called Cole to let him know.

  “Layla. Hey.”

  I heard crying in the background, and it gave me pause.

  “Cole? Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Wait, hold on a sec.”

  There were muffled sounds of his calming voice as the crying rose in volume.

  “Are you at home?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m headed that way. Hold on.”

  I hung up the phone call and raced toward his house. He had said that everything was okay but the sounds of Millie crying in the background, and the exhausted cracking of his voice as he spoke, told me differently. My heart was breaking for both of them. Neither had time to properly grieve Susie as they were trying to figure out how to live under the same roof. I was eager to get there and see if I could help in any way.

  “Come on. Turn green,” I murmured.

  It seemed as if I got stopped at every stoplight. And the longer I stayed on the road, the more I growled to myself. I finally pulled into the driveway and saw Cole sitting on the porch, his head already in his hands. I reached for the paperwork and jumped out of my car, almost forgetting to turn the damn thing off.

  I raced for him, listening for that crying, for that little, helpless girl who was probably scared out of her mind.

  “Cole. Hey.”

  I leapt onto the porch, but he didn’t move.

  “Cole?”

  I crouched down in front of him and placed the paperwork off to the side. I slid my hands up and down the outside of his thighs as my eyes peered in through the open front door. I searched around for Millie, but she was nowhere to be found.

  “She’s asleep on the couch,” he sighed.

  I patted his thighs. “What happened?”

  “What always happens. Mornings are good. Afternoons, bad.”

  “Why?”

  “All she wants is junk and cartoons. And I won’t let her have junk and cartoons.”

  It gave me more of a glimpse as to the life she was used to, breaking my heart even further.

  “I brought you enrollment paperwork for my school. Plus, some more reading material on kids with IEPs.”

  “Great. More reading,” he said flatly. Then, he raised his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “Yes, you did. And it’s fine. A lot has happened, and you’ve been thrown into parenthood at a later stage in the game. Give yourself some time to adjust. Just like Millie needs time, so do you.”

  He shrugged. “She follows me around crying. If I’m out of sight, no crying. If she sees me, crying,” he said.

  I nodded. “That’s probably how she’s used to getting attention. Asking probably didn’t work, but crying did. So, she cried for the attention before asking for what she wanted. Hence the not crying when she can’t see you.”

  “How do I stop it? How do I break that cycle? She can’t just sit in front of a television eating junk all day.”

  I drew in a deep breath. “As much as it sucks, you keep doing what you’re doing. Stick to your guns. Don’t cave. And eventually, she’ll get the picture.”

  “That seems so… cruel.”

  “What’s crueler is letting her have her way, even when you know it isn’t healthy.”

  “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

  I picked up the paperwork, then handed it to him.

  “When do you plan on going back to work?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Whenever I can get this settled.”

  “Who’s covering for you?”

  “My assistant, Joe.”

  “How’s the business going?”

  He smiled. “It’s going swell.”

  Though, there was bitterness in his voice. I knew that Cole had been one of the richest people in the state before he even started his business due to his trust fund. I had always admired that he didn’t just fall back on his family’s money and that he chose to distance himself from the privilege and actually build something for himself.

  “You don’t have to raise Millie like that, you know. You can raise her to have an appreciation for hard work. You don’t have to give her everything she wants all the time,” I said.

  “Yeah but is this the kind of fight it’s always going to be?” he asked.

  “Maybe with some things. And not with others. You’re changing her routine. That takes time to adjust to.”

  Then, I heard something akin to a bark emanate from the front door.

  “Hold on,” he murmured.

  “What was that?”

  The bark happened again, and I stood with Cole.

  “That’s Hope,” he said.

  “Who’s Hope?”

  And just as the question left my lips, out rushed a little puppy.

  Not just any puppy, though—a dachshund puppy. White, with brown spots and a long tail that wagged as the puppy jumped up my leg. My mouth fell open in surprise as I looked up at Cole, watching as he bent down to scoop up the little dog.

  “Come on. We have a project to finish,” he said, grunting.

  I followed him in silent shock as we walked into the house. I clutched the papers in my hands, closing the door behind me. I turned my head and saw Millie on the couch, napping away with a blanket over her. Cole walked over and tucked the puppy underneath the blanket. Hope settled against Millie and automatically curled into the little girl.

  The sight warmed my heart as Cole pressed a soft kiss to the girl’s forehead.

  “When in the world did that happen?” I asked.

  “I took her out for breakfast this morning, and a guy was selling them outside of the pet shop. This was the one Millie liked the most,” he said.

  “So, what’s this project you just referenced?”

  He paused. “There’s a doghouse out back I’m about to work on. I wanted Millie to come outside and play with the puppy while I built it. But the tantrum started because she wanted to watch cartoons with her new friend.”

  I held back a giggle. “Ah.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  “It’s kind of cute, though. Cartoons with the puppy.”

  “Aren’t you the one that said, ‘stick to the routine’?”

  “Maybe find a designated day or time she can look forward to where cartoons are allowed. You know, for the sake of the new friend.”

  He shook his head, and I giggled my way all the way out to the back porch. I set the paperwork on the glass table outside, watching as Cole made his way for the materials in the middle of the backyard. He started piecing it together, hammering away as he wiped at the sweat on his brow. As I sat
there at the table with my legs crossed, I smiled brightly.

  That little girl already had him wrapped around her little finger.

  I watched him hammer away, his muscles flexing in the sunlight. I licked my lips, feeling parched as the heat of the sun peeked through the near autumn clouds. Fall was almost upon us. Just a few more days of this wretched sun and we’d have the perfect bonfire weather. Cole cursed to himself and I stood up, rushing out to make sure he was all right.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  I took his hand away from his mouth and saw his thumb bleeding.

  “Come on. Let’s take a break from all this. I need to go over this paperwork with you anyway.”

  I led him into the house, grabbing the paperwork off the table. I ran his thumb under some warm water, washing the blood and dirt away. I rifled around for his first aid kit, then bandaged up his thumb. As I looked up at him, I found him staring at me with a look in his eye I couldn’t pinpoint.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  He blinked rapidly. “Yeah. Whenever you are.”

  “Let’s sit. You look like you could use a drink anyway.”

  A glass of water later, we sat at the kitchen table while Millie napped on the couch. I walked him through the paperwork, checking off everything he’d need, things like her vaccination record and updated medical paperwork, any evaluations he had done on her by a psychologist, or otherwise. I numbered everything, making a small list for him as he relaxed into his seat.

  I couldn’t imagine how overwhelmed he felt right then.

  “I’m still in the process of vetting some therapists for her. But I’ve made four phone calls today and have it down to two,” he said.

  “Hey! That’s good. One thing at a time.”

  He snickered. “Thanks. Everything I read on the internet last night, though, said puppies were good for helping to heal trauma. Or something like that.”

  I nodded. “Yes. For comfort purposes.”

  “Yeah. That. I’m also making plans to start working on her room sometime this week. I want to involve her in the process of taking that guest room she’s in right now and making it her own. You know, letting her pick out colors to paint the walls and toys to put in it.”

  “That would help. You know, to show her this is where she’s planted. Make it feel like her space. Reassure her this is home base.”