by Celeste, B.
Her eyes brighten. “I can ask her and see if she knows of any open classes. If memory serves, she went to the Rec Center in the next town over to take them. I’ll get some details before getting your hopes up.”
Too late, I want to tell her.
Instead, I say, “Thank you.”
She squeezes my arm. “I’ll make sure Ainsley stays here. If she tries encouraging a transfer, you can definitely speak up against the idea. As a parent, that’s your right to call her out and fight the matter. Depending on how that goes, it’s a risk. Speaking up as a parent is one thing, but…”
As a faculty member… “I could lose my placement if administration thinks there’s a conflict of interest,” I conclude, with a tight bob of the head.
She doesn’t say anything to confirm.
“Ainsley means more than this position,” I tell her quietly, knowing the risk is more than just a paycheck. If I don’t get my student teaching hours in, I won’t be able to graduate.
“It’ll work out, Piper.”
Evie has always been an optimist. Me? Not so much. But I try pretending like she’s right even though doubt cements itself in my stomach. What I know for sure is that I don’t want Ainsley to leave the district. Too much change has already happened in her life. She needs stability, consistency. And if Harris or the administration has a problem with that, then I’ll make the point heard before telling them what they can shove up their hypocritical asses.
I’m in a bitter mood all day. I want nothing more than to complain to the school about the poor communication skills between faculty and parents, but I know Evie is right. If I say anything now, it puts Ainsley and me in a bad place. I don’t want her getting punished for my big mouth.
After cooking our favorite comfort food, spaghetti and garlic bread, I help Ains with homework and study the way she absorbs the information. I’ve always known she’s a talented kid, smarter than most her age. When my parents visit or babysit, they note the same thing.
“Nugget.” The pencil in her hand stops as she looks up at me from the workbook in front of her with dotted lines she’s practicing her penmanship in. “How would you feel about taking classes with me. It would be for American Sign Language, which is a way to communicate with our hands.”
Her brown eyes widen, then blink.
Not really a response. I clear my throat and sit back at the table, bringing my elbow to rest on the edge of it. “I never want to force you to do something you’re uncomfortable with, so I’d never tell you that you have to speak. And nobody else should either, okay?” It takes a moment before her head moves up and down slowly, giving me confirmation that she understands me. “So, a friend of mine mentioned this method as a way to communicate. If I could get us into a class, would you be willing to take it?”
Please say yes. Nod. Smile. Something.
I hold my breath as she looks at me, her pencil held tight in her hand. It took her two tries to hold the writing utensil right. When I did teaching observations early on in my degree, I’d been placed in an elementary school where I watched kids struggle to do that for a lot longer. I’ve been told that Ainsley is a special kid, and I’ve never needed to hear it twice to agree.
“You don’t have to decide now,” I relent when she doesn’t make any type of movement that gives me an answer. “But I want you to choose soon, okay? I want … I want to give you a chance to have a voice in your own way.”
She blinks again, her lips parting. My heart races at the tiny movement, then shatters slowly when it closes again. But she reaches out with her free hand and squeezes my wrist before nodding her head.
I blink back tears. “Yeah?”
Another head nod and squeeze.
Blowing out a small breath, I smile. “I’ll look into classes then. It’ll be fun. Something for you, me, and maybe my parents if they’re interested in learning.”
When she goes back to her homework, I pull out my phone and text Evie saying I want to do classes no matter what—cost, time, it won’t stop me. Ainsley and I need this. Maybe me more than her, at least that’s what I tell myself. It isn’t often I text Evie since we’re not really friends outside of school, but it seems necessary. This, what she’s offering, could be the start of something life changing.
After an hour of homework, I tell Ainsley to go upstairs and grab her pajamas so I can give her a bath. She doesn’t even argue as we make our way to the bathroom, her favorite pajamas in her hand, and waits for the bathtub to fill.
“Bubbles?”
She gives me a look that says, Duh.
Once she’s in, I give her time to play around in the suds while taking a towel and putting it on the sink beside me. When my phone rings, I glance down to see Jenna’s name across the screen.
“You actually answered,” she greets before I can even say hello. “I swear trying to get ahold of you is impossible lately. What if I was dying and you were my last call?”
My face screws. “Why would you call me and not 911 if you were dying? That makes no logical sense.”
“Maybe because I love you, you bitch.” I snicker at her attitude. “Anyway, I was just calling to see if the party this weekend was still on. Our girl isn’t sick anymore, is she? She seemed fine earlier, but that girl has an impressive poker face.”
I watch Ainsley. “Nope, she’s doing fine. A few days of medicine, orange juice, and rest was all she needed. The party is still on.”
Ains looks up at me, a smile twitching on the corners of her lips. I wink at her and pick up the washcloth next to me, wetting it with soap before beginning to wash her back as she plays.
“I got her the perfect gift,” Jenna exclaims, way too excited. That means she spent a lot of money—more than I did.
“Jen—”
“Don’t you dare ruin this,” she cuts me off, making me roll my eyes. “I spent way too much time putting this doll house together for you to tell me not to bother. There was a lot of cursing and my cat almost choked on one of the pieces. It was a serious situation.”
I try not to snort over that. Poor Oscar, the black cat she took in as a stray, can’t win. Then again, I wouldn’t want to live with Jenna either. I love her, but she’s a handful.
“I’ll bring it by Friday.”
“The party isn’t until Saturday.”
“But it’s at the nursing home,” she reminds me as if I’ve forgotten. “I don’t want to lug the thing there then all the way to your house. It’s huge.”
My eyes narrow. “How huge?”
“You can’t measure love, Piper.”
I wash Ainsley’s arms and stomach. “I don’t have a lot of room here is all. At this rate I’ll need to tell Easton to move out or sleep on the couch so I can store all her toys in it.”
I should have known the amused chuckle from her was leading to no good. “What’s it matter? It sounds like he spends a lot of time in your room anyway.”
Heat blossoms over my cheeks and travels down the back of my neck. “Cut it out. It isn’t like he stays there.” We haven’t had sex in weeks. Neither one of us has initiated anything. He doesn’t even come to my room. “I think that’s over anyway. It was just a little fling to pass time.”
“A fling?”
“Mhmm.” I pass the washcloth to Ainsley and tell her to finish cleaning herself. I set the phone down and put her on speaker so I can wash Ainsley’s hair. “Look, it’s fine. Easton and I are just roommates who have an agreement. It was never a forever thing. He’s got plenty of girls hanging around him at the shop anyway.”
“That doesn’t upset you?”
“It’s not like he brings them home.”
“But is he…?” She lets the question fade.
“What? No!” Easton isn’t the kind of guy to screw multiple women at once. Then again, we never talked about it. I’m not seeing anybody else on the side and just assume he isn’t either.
“All I’m saying,” she says in a muffled tone, with undoubtedly a spoonful of hazel
nut butter in her mouth, “is that it’s okay to hook up with someone else. I’ve seen guys walking around town, P. Some of those freshmen come from good genes. If you and your hot ass roomie aren’t having—”
“You’re on speaker phone,” I cut her off.
“—meetings about how to properly make the bed, then it’s okay to find other methods,” she saves, making me chortle. “Some people like to tuck the comforter in, others don’t bother making it at all.”
I rinse Ainsley’s hair out. “Your analogy is confusing me, but I know where you’re going with it. Listen, if he wants to … try other methods of bed making, I’m not going to stop him. He’s a grown man. I just don’t have time.”
“To make the bed?”
I pause. “Wouldn’t I be un-making it?”
There’s hesitation. “You’re right, this analogy is stupid. Whatever. I just don’t want you to grow cobwebs where the sun doesn’t shine.”
Rolling my eyes, I tell Ainsley she can play for a few more minutes before she needs to get out. “Don’t worry, my sheets will be perfectly fine unruffled.”
She bursts out laughing. “You’re so weird.”
I scoff. “You’re the one who made the analogy! I’m just trying to go along with it.”
I unfold the towel and gesture for Ainsley to stand up. When she does, I make quick to dry her off before wrapping it around her and picking her up. Once her feet hit the bathmat in front of the tub, I finish drying her off before passing her, her pajamas to change into.
Reaching out my hand for her, I grab my phone and walk toward Ainsley’s room. “I need to help Ains finish getting ready for bed. Can I call you back when I’m done?”
Jenna sighs lightly. “As much as I’d love to complain about my day at work, I should probably be productive. I need to ride the exercise bike for like two hours to burn off the amount of Nutella I just ate.”
I grin. “Tell me tomorrow?”
“If I don’t murder my boss first.”
“I don’t have bail money,” I warn.
“Then give me an alibi.”
She hangs up before I can answer, causing me to laugh and slide my phone into my back pocket. I help Ainsley into bed, passing her the teddy bear I know she loves sleeping with and pulling her comforter over her. “Your Aunt Jenna is crazy, you know that?”
Ainsley smiles.
I pass her the lavender quilt next, watching her cuddle up into it. “I love you so much, Nugget. Want me to read to you?”
She points to a book next to her bed, the same one she always wants me to read. The black and white checkered hardback book is falling apart from the amount of times it’s been read. But she loves the nursery rhymes in it, so I crack it open and accept I’ll have to find some sort of glue to hold the spine and pages together before it completely disintegrates.
It doesn’t take long before she falls asleep, leaving me kissing her forehead and creeping out to clean up downstairs before shutting off the lights and heading to my room. It’s early but I’m tired and moody from the day’s events, leaving me curled up in bed with my phone and searching classes at the Rec Center.
Sometime later I hear footsteps outside my bedroom door that wakes me. The doorknob handle turns slowly, but the door never opens. I watch and wait, holding my breath, before the footsteps walk away and a different door across the hall opens and closes.
I swallow.
And tell myself it doesn’t matter.
Chapter Nine
Carrying a six-year-old into the house after she passed out from a cake coma shouldn’t feel any different than carrying a five-year-old, but it is. It’s not just the physical weight of her body in my arms that keeps a somber feeling in my chest but knowing that we spent another year together. I never thought about having kids until I got the call from Danny’s lawyer saying I was appointed legal guardianship.
Laying her on her mattress, I stare down at the crusted frosting on the corner of her lips and the glitter in her hair that I’ll find ten years from now and manage to smile. It’s a shaky gesture, but a sincere one as I recall the busy day of bright eyes and hand squeezes as Mable and a few others doted on Ainsley and showered her with gifts, sugar, and praise. She loved every second of attention.
Jenna appears in the doorway, her head cocked as she studies Ainsley. “She kinda looks like I did after our first party freshman year. You know, after you held my hair back when I threw up the tequila shots I took?”
I shiver, practically smelling the horrors of that night—alcohol and poor decisions. Not a good combination. “I’ve never been able to go near that stuff.”
She grins. “I have. Many times.”
Oh, I know it. I’ve held her hair back more times than I could count. “She looks way more peaceful. You were groaning and ranting on and on about how you’d never make that mistake again. Wasn’t it like a week later that you dragged me back out?”
Her teeth bite into her bottom lip. “At least my next mistake was in form of a very dirty Russian.”
“You had margaritas all night,” I recall, knowing it’s her favorite go-to drink.
“You obviously don’t remember the guy I went home with,” she says with a wink. I shake my head and pull the blankets over Ainsley, not worrying about getting anything more than her slip-on shoes off.
Leaving the door cracked open, I follow Jenna downstairs where she set the bag of presents Ainsley got. She picks up a doll and examines its gaudy pink outfit. “I noticed your roommate didn’t make an appearance today. Are old ladies and princess cake too good for him?”
I drop onto the couch, crossing my legs under me as she unpacks the presents. “I mentioned we were having a party there, but he never said if he’d come.”
“Did you specifically invite him?” Her brows arch in inquiry as she places the dolls in compromising positions in the house she bought Ainsley.
“Why is that Barbie on top of two other Barbies? You know what. Forget I asked. And, no. I just kind of hinted that there would be a party to celebrate. It doesn’t matter anyway. He works today.”
“Would he have come if he didn’t?”
How am I supposed to know? I shrug. “I don’t know what he would or wouldn’t do. He probably wouldn’t have had fun with a bunch of senior citizens anyway.”
Jenna turns to me slowly. “Why does it sound like you’re trying to convince yourself of that? Did you want him to come?”
My lips part, then close.
She perks up. “Oh my God! You did.”
“Shut up. No, I didn’t. It’d be weird.”
“Weird because you like him.”
“Weird because he has no obligation to Ainsley or me,” I correct, getting up and walking into the kitchen. Pulling out a bottle of tomato juice, I hop onto the counter and let my legs dangle off the edge. “It’d make no sense for him to come celebrate some little girl’s birthday with people he doesn’t know.”
“But … you wanted him to,” she presses.
I glare. “No. I. Didn’t.”
She steals my juice and takes a sip. “You can deny it all you want, but you got the hots for your sex-on-a-stick roomie. All those inked muscles have gone to your head.”
Refusing to answer, I steal the juice back and focus on anything but the narrowed look my self-appointed best friend gives me. Sometimes I wonder how we’ve made it this long without trying to kill each other. We’re opposites in every way that counts, yet we work. If I didn’t have her, even when she annoys me, I’d be lost. She knows it, too.
“Whatever, Ms. Denial,” she sighs, leaning against the counter behind her. “So, what are you going to do about the school situation? You wouldn’t share when we talked on the phone the other night and I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Ainsley.”
Wetting my lips, I feel the anxiety of reality crash into me. I’ve avoided the topic for as long as I can, but Principal Harris pulled me aside and insisted we needed to discuss Ainsley’s wellbeing on Friday.
Needless to say, the conversation was tense. My facial expression was anything but professional despite her talking to me during working hours. I’ve already been told to see her first thing Monday morning, and I have a feeling the little control I have left will be long gone come that conversation.
“I want her to stay there.”
She nods once. “Understandable.”
“Harris would barely listen to me when I told her about the sign language classes. It was like all she heard was how she’d have to hire an interpreter. I swear, the woman is—”
“A total bitch?” my bestie finishes.
“I was going to say unfit to work with school children, but yeah. She is. Everyone is tense because of the budget, and she sees Ainsley as an added expense. Isn’t she supposed to do what’s best for the kids?”
Jenna gives me a sympathetic look. “I can play the bad cop. Go in fists swinging on Monday that way you don’t get the blame.”
“And how would I explain that?”
Her lips pull upward slowly. “We can say I’m your crazy ex-lover. I can play the part of a concerned parent.”
“Crazy ex-lover?” I repeat, blinking.
“I’d rock the role.”
I have no doubt. “Something tells me that won’t end well. It’s best if I speak with her and get it over with. I’ll just voice my concerns and explain what I want, as a parent, to Ainsley. If she has a problem with that…”
“What if she does though?”
I really hate thinking about what-if situations. They get us nowhere. I’ll start having a panic attack until I’m convinced my heart is giving out, then wind up with a two-hundred- and fifty-dollar copay for an emergency room visit that was never needed. I may have been there before after finding out about Danny… And then again after finding out about Ainsley.
“I’ll figure it out.” My voice is no more than an uncertain whisper that I force out. There’s nothing I can do but wait and see. Harris hearing me out is unlikely, but I’m always going to choose Ainsley before anything else. And if I have to file a formal complaint against her, then I’ll happily kiss my job, and placement, goodbye if it means her getting reprimanded. Nobody should have to fight for their kid to have a right to an education of their choosing just because somebody like Harris doesn’t want to deal with the extra steps.