“Did you complete your teaching registration in 2008?” the superintendent, who I think is Rob, asks.
I nod. “Yes. At that stage I thought I would be back to teaching when Tilly was old enough.”
“And what happened?”
“Life happened,” I say.
I place my hands palms down in my lap. My voice shakes, but I know this needs to be said. I’m not after their pity, but I do need them to understand that I’m a strong person who has dealt with a lot. I focus on Max as I speak, studying the way his dark hair catches the soft glow of sunlight streaming though the narrow window above him.
“My fiancé was seriously injured in a car accident, which left him in a coma. He’s been in a coma for the last three years. I was left to care for my daughter alone. The position at the gallery came up and they were very flexible with my needs when it came to my daughter.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your fiancé,” Rob says, his face sympathetic. “Can I ask why the gallery is no longer suitable for you?”
“The previous director was a friend of my fiancé’s family. He understood and was sympathetic to my circumstances. The new director decided they needed to cut down on staff by having full-time positions only.”
“Right.” He nods. “Are you going to have any problems meeting the three days this position requires?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “My daughter is a student at this school. I don’t see any problem in fulfilling my expectations.”
“Good,” Max says, nodding. “Let’s move on. We have a few questions that we would like for you to answer, if that’s okay?”
I nod, smiling brightly. Inside, I’m dying. Scenario-type questions, like the ones Max and I went over last night, scare the hell out of me. For the first few, I stumble through my answers, cringing as I think about how unprofessional I sound. I catch Max’s eye and he nods encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, I refocus and remember what he said to me. They want to hear passion about teaching. Why do I want this? What can I offer that nobody else can?
By the end of the interview, things are going a hell of a lot better.
I’m thankful for all Max’s help. Without his preparations I’m sure I would’ve tanked the whole interview. I stand up, glad it’s over, but not overly confident I’ll be successful. Surely the other applicants have more experience than me? The only thing I have going for me is my relationship with Max.
“Thanks, Kiara, we’ll be in touch.” Max smiles.
I stand up, and he rises with me. I thank the panel and shake their hands, trying to look for a hint in their expressions. I get nothing.
Max stands and follows me out, edging the door closed behind him as we exit the conference room. Leaning over, he whispers just loud enough for me to hear, “You did well. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”
I nod, not fully processing what he’s saying. What lasted forty-five minutes felt like hours, but I got through it. I’m both relieved and proud of myself. I think I did well, but whether I did enough to secure the job? Time will tell.
As I’m leaving the parking lot, my phone rings. I frown when I see that it’s Heather. Running into her and Jim last night had been awkward to say the least, especially the way she was looking at Max. I knew exactly what was going on in her mind and it made me angry. Why wasn’t I allowed to go out with a friend? Who did she think she was, jumping to conclusions like that?
She had no idea the emotional battle I’d been fighting with myself over the feelings I have for another man. But maybe she knew me better than I knew myself, because as it turned out, she was right.
The kiss had confused things even more, because now not only was I lying to her about who Max was to me, I was lying to myself.
Sighing, I pull over, silently praying the phone will stop ringing by the time I press answer. No such luck.
“Hello?”
“Kiara,” she says, her tone clipped. “I was hoping you could come over. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
“Heather, if this is about last night—”
“No, it’s not that,” she interrupts. “It’s about Aiden.”
I sigh again, wondering how long it will take her to work Max into the conversation. “Okay, I’ll come over now.”
I pull up outside Heather and Jim’s house. I have no idea what she wants to talk to me about. Since the accident, we’ve had a strong difference of opinion when it comes to Aiden. Living like this is not what he would have wanted, but short of dragging everything through court—which I refuse to do, for Tilly’s sake—unless Heather agrees to withhold life support, there’s nothing I can do for him. Could she have finally come to her senses? I shake my head. She’d never agree to let him go with dignity, no matter how bleak the outlook is.
I ring the doorbell and wait, shifting from one foot to the other. Heather opens the door and smiles. She steps forward and hugs me. Her sudden warmth leaves me taken aback.
“Come in, Kiara. Coffee or tea?” she asks, glancing back at me as I follow her through to the living room.
I shift on my feet, glancing around awkwardly, feeling out of place like I always do in their house. It’s spotless and classy without being over the top, but it’s so cold and empty. I can feel the tension every time I enter a room. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t feel welcome here—even more so since the accident.
“A tea would be nice,” I say, wishing she would get to the point.
She nods and calls out to her housekeeper, Millie.
“So, what’s this about? You said you wanted to speak about Aiden?” I press, my anxiety growing. Of all the possibilities running through my mind, none of them are good.
“Yes, sit down.” She gestures.
I take the middle seat on the sofa as she sits in the armchair opposite me.
“I have great news. Aiden is coming home.”
My heart stops. Did I hear her right?
“Pardon?” I say, my hands clutching the cushion underneath me. My heart begins to pound faster as I try and figure out what this means. He’s awake? “What do you mean he’s coming home? Has he woken up? That’s impossible, the hospital would’ve called me—”
“His condition is the same, Kiara,” Heather cuts in, her expression sympathetic. “I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise. I’ve been liaising with an organization that supports families of coma patients, and the best chance he has of recovering is being at home. With his family.” She pauses, wetting her lips before looking me in the eyes. “We want you and Tilly to come and live with us.”
“What?” I laugh. The idea, to me, is ridiculous. “No, that’s not possible.”
“Think about it, Kiara.”
My anger boils, causing my body to shake. She speaks to me like I’m a child not grasping a simple concept.
“Aiden needs his family around him and Tilly needs her father. You keeping her from him is doing neither of them any good.”
The haze begins to lift as I realize what’s going on.
“This is your way of trying to force Tilly into seeing her father,” I say, the whole picture slowly forming in my head. “I can’t believe you would stoop this low, Heather. Aiden needs to be where he is. Bringing him here is not going to change anything.” I laugh and wave my hand around. “How do you expect to care for him here?”
“I have twenty-four-hour medical staff organized, equipment, permits . . .” she replies, her voice calm. “This isn’t some ‘wacky’ idea I’ve just come up with. This is something I’ve put a lot of thought and consideration into. I’m doing what’s best for my son.”
“If you wanted to do what was best for your son, you’d let him go,” I say quietly.
Her eyes narrow and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve.
“Enough!” she says, standing up, her cold eyes glaring at me. “How dare you suggest that keeping my son alive is something I’m doing for myself? The only reason you want me to stop his treatment is so you can move on with your new boyfrien
d,” she spits.
“I don’t have a boyfriend, Heather. All I’ve ever wanted is what Aiden would want,” I argue, getting to my feet, too. Tears well in my eyes and I fight to hold them back. “I can’t stand the thought of him trapped in that body, unable to communicate, wishing he were dead.”
“I think it’s best if you leave,” Heather says, her face white.
Millie walks in, carrying a tray of tea and cookies. She stops, noticing our argument, and quickly retreats from the room.
“Maybe we can address this when you’ve calmed down.”
“Calmed down?” I laugh. I shake my head and stomp toward the door. “Trust me, this is as calm as I get when it comes to you. What you’re suggesting is not going to happen, Heather. If the only reason you’re relocating Aiden is to get to Tilly, then you’re wasting your time and endangering your son’s life. You realize moving him could be enough to kill him, right?”
I open the door and walk down the path, not looking back. I reach my car, my hands shaking as I try to unlock it. God, how selfish can she be? This is her son’s life she’s messing with, and while we haven’t agreed on much over the last few years, he has always been the forefront of her actions.
His doctor made it clear that removing Aiden would be detrimental to his care. Why is she ignoring advice from the one person that has been caring for him from the start?
This whole thing is so fucked up.
I wanted her to see sense and realize that Aiden deserves to die, but not like this, The last thing in the world I want is for him to suffer, or to put Tilly through anymore pain.
There’s no way. I won’t let her do this. I wont let her do this to either of them.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Ellie’s jaw drops open as she stares at me, eyes wide.
I nurse my coffee in my lap, kicking my legs up under me.
“She’s insane. I mean, is that even legal? Can she do that?”
“I don’t know,” I sigh. I lean back and rest my head against the soft leather of the sofa. “She just keeps pushing, Ellie. Am I doing the right thing, not forcing Tilly to see Aiden?”
“You’re stopping that child from enduring more pain and emotional damage until she’s old enough to handle it. That’s what being a good parent is all about.” She reaches over and squeezes my leg. “It’ll be fine, Kee. If you won’t move in there’s no way she’s stupid enough to take him out of hospital. How did your interview go?”
I laugh. In the middle of everything that was happening, I’d totally forgotten about my interview. Sitting in that room and answering those questions feels like it was months ago.
“I did okay.” I shrug. “God, El. It was so awkward seeing him after what happened last night.”
Ellie’s looks at me, confused. “What happened? You mean your movie outing?” Her eyes grow wide. She sits forward. “Kee, you tell me this instant what happened!”
I sit forward, placing my cup on the coffee table in front of me and resting my hands on my head. “He kissed me,” I admit, my voice muffled.
“He kissed you?” Elli repeats. “Did you kiss him back?”
“Yes. No. God, I don’t know. I guess for a minute I did, but then I left and . . .” I shake my head. “Before any of that happened, we ran into Heather and Jim in the bar we went to after the movie.”
“Oh no,” she whispers, clapping her hand over her mouth. “Is that where this whole Aiden thing has come from?”
“Maybe.” I shrug, shaking my head. “I don’t know what she’s thinking, other than that she wasn’t happy seeing me out with another man.”
“It was just friends going to a movie,” Elli reminds me.
“Yeah, until we kissed,” I groan. “What am I doing, Ellie? You know I blame you for this whole mess, don’t you?” I say, winking at her.
“I’m so sorry, Kee. I never thought things would get this complicated.” The poor girl looks so upset, I feel sorry for her. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do myself. I guess I’ll give Heather some time to defuse, and then try and talk some sense into her.” I stand up and give my sister a smile. “I better get Till home. Thanks for this, Ellie.”
“Yeah, I’m awesome at helping my sister mess her life up more,” Ellie mutters, getting to her feet.
I laugh and pull her into a hug. “This isn’t your fault, El,” I laugh. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
By the time we get home, I've calmed down, and at Tilly’s request we have hotdogs for dinner. After we eat, we do our usual routine of watching TV and doing her homework until it’s bedtime. She fights me on going to bed and begs me to let her stay up a little later. I almost give in, but all I want to do is sleep myself, and I can tell she’s tired from the way she keeps blinking.
“Not tonight, baby. You can barely keep your eyes open, and you have to be up early for school” I say, tweaking her cheek. “If you’re a good girl, I'll let you stay up later next Saturday.”
“Promise Mommy?” she asks, her eyes wide.
I nod and kiss her forehead, a smile on my lips. She’s so damn cute.
I help her change into her pajamas and then tuck her into bed. We read a book, and I lie with her until she falls asleep. It's funny—no matter how insistent she is on being up past her bedtime, she's always asleep so quickly. Tonight is no exception. Literally seconds before she starts snoring, she asks me if I’m sure she can’t stay up.
I sneak out of her room and pull the door closed. As I’m walking back down the hallway, my phone rings. I race down to the kitchen and lunge for it on the counter, not checking the caller. As soon as I say hello, I begin to panic that it might be Heather, someone I'm just not in the mood to argue with again—not yet anyway. Relief fills me when I hear Max's voice, followed by embarrassment when I remember our kiss. Even though I’ve seen him since then, the interview was hardly the place to address it properly.
“Hey. I hope not calling too late,” he says.
“No, I'm awake,” I say, pouring myself a glass of wine to calm my nerves. “I’m a bit of a night owl.” I chuckle, carrying my wine over to the sofa. I sit down, tucking my feet up underneath me.
“Well, that will have to change when you get the job,” he teases.
“When I get the job?” I repeat, my heart racing. Does he know something?
“It's not a done deal just yet, but you can be pretty confident,” he hints.
“When do you think I’ll know for sure?” I ask nervously.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he says. “We’re meeting to discuss the positions. Anyway, the reason I’m calling is to apologize for the other night.”
“No, you don't need to do that. If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “I'm sorry. I know I'm giving you mixed signals, and I know that's not fair. It’s just the place I’m in at the moment is just so messed up.”
“And I get that—”
“I need to get this out,” I say, cutting him off. “It’s not that I don’t like you, Max. The problem is, I do like you.”
“How’s that a problem?” he asks. “Look, I’m not going to lie to you. I like you too, but if you’re not ready then I’m not going to push you. Just don’t avoid me, okay?”
The problem is it’s easier to remember the reasons why opening myself up to him is a bad idea when I’m not around him. When I’m around him, all my rationale goes out the window.
“Okay, I’ll try,” I promise. “I have to go and get Till ready for bed,” I fib, just wanting to end the conversation. “I’ll see you soon though, I’m sure.”
“Okay. Call me if you need me,” he says, before ending the call.
Sighing, I finish my wine and then glance at the clock. It's not even ten, but I'm so tired I feel as if I could sleep for days. I get up and put my glass in the sink and check that the doors are locked.
Even though I'm tired, I know I’m going to struggle to get to sleep. I have
too much going on in my head and not enough time to think about it all. I have a shower to try and relax me, and it does, the hot water calming as it streams down my face. It’s a good ten minutes before I resurface. I reach for a towel and wrap it around my lean body, and use another towel to dry my hair. My skin is red from the piping hot water, but I don't care.
I walk down to my room and fumble through the drawer of my night table for a sleeping pill. I don't take them often, but I feel I need a little help tonight.
***
I sleep pretty well, all things considered, but waking up is a bitch. My head pounds, and I feel as if I’ve drunk ten vodkas and I’m now paying the price. I knew there was a reason I avoided sleeping pills as much as possible.
Pushing back the covers, I force myself out of bed, knowing I have to get Tilly ready for school. I wrap my robe around me and stagger down to the kitchen. First thing I do is put on coffee. I feel as if I'm going to need a lot of that today.
Tilly wanders out, her blond hair a mess all over her face. She yawns and looks at me, a strange expression on her face.
“What's wrong?” I ask, setting some toast on the table for her.
She sits down. “Nothing. You look more tired than usual,” she replies, taking a bite of her toast. “Maybe you need to go to sleep earlier,” she adds, parroting a line I’ve used on her many times.
I narrow my eyes at her but I can’t help but laugh. Sometimes I wonder if she's really only five.
“Thanks for your concern, sweetie. I'm fine, I just need my coffee.”
She screws up her nose and takes another bite of her banana and honey toast. After she finishes, I bundle her into the bath, regretting not taking the time to bathe her last night. It's so much easier getting as much done in the evening before bed, because the mornings are usually a mess with getting her ready.
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