by Beck, Jamie
I glanced at Grace, whose distant gaze suggested her thoughts were elsewhere. It wasn’t like her to lose focus in a meeting. Something big had to be bothering her. If things were different, I would know what it was and help. Instead, I remained handcuffed by the silence. “I don’t know anything about science equipment, so I have no suggestions. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. That’s why I called this meeting,” he said. “We could do any number of things. For instance, we could buy a bunch of new smaller items, like updated microscopes, and scales and balances. Or we could buy one or two bigger-ticket items, like a small fume hood or mobile lab unit.”
I grimaced and shrugged, feeling like I was listening to that lawyer again with all the jargon. “If it were up to me, I might vote to do a big item and put a plaque on it with Carter’s name . . . something that would last.” Plaques and recognition had always seemed so posh, probably because I’d never received any. “But, Grace, why don’t we ask Carter what he’d prefer since he’s the science wiz?”
Hearing her name snapped her back to attention. “Sorry. Um, I’m driving up there after this meeting, so I can talk to him about it today.” She turned to Mr. Richards. “Would it be possible for me to take your list of items so he can see all the options?”
“Of course.” He slid the folder toward her. “As you know, we have around three grand to work with.”
“Do the teachers have a preference?” She leafed through the pages, as if any of that equipment meant something to her. Meanwhile, it was so obvious to anyone who knew her well that something was wrong. My stomach burned with concern. “I ask because Carter might also like to know that.”
“I’m glad you asked, actually.” He smiled. “Other countries are doing more advanced microscopy work in the classroom. This coming summer and next, we’re running our teachers through some extra coursework on how to better incorporate that into our curriculum so our kids aren’t left behind in the global STEM education arena. There are some newer digital microscopes that might be great, but that said, we’re open to anything if Carter has a strong feeling about it. This is, after all, a gift in his name.”
“One we are very touched by and grateful for.” Grace flushed when she looked at me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, prompting some of my own. As hurt as I’d been, if Mr. Richards weren’t here, I would cross the room, hug her, and force her to tell me what was going on, lawsuits be damned. She cleared her throat. “Okay, then. I’ll take this and give him your recommendation, then call you later, if that’s okay with everyone.”
“Of course.” Mr. Richards paused. “Do you mind if I ask how he’s doing? I’d love to give his teachers some good news. He’s very well liked, as you know.”
Thank God he’d asked what I was dying to know.
“Thank you.” Grace’s gaze flicked my way before she finished. I remained still, as if I could make myself invisible so she would feel free to answer him. “It’s been hard. He had a setback recently, which will prolong his stay up there, but he’s working to get back on track. We don’t know yet when he’ll be released, but they keep reminding me that progress is not always linear, so we have to be patient.”
My heartbeat became uneven and heavy. A setback? How big? What had happened, and how was he coping? Good grief, and here I’d been mad at Grace for not being nicer to me. I felt selfish and disturbed. “Grace, I’m sorry to hear that.”
She nodded, saying no more.
“As am I. But he’s such a determined kid I’ve no doubt that he will overcome and push forward,” Mr. Richards said. “Please give him our best and keep us posted. If he needs additional accommodations, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“Thank you for being so flexible. We really appreciate it.” She forced a polite smile, but her movements were still nervous—birdlike, fidgety. It bruised my heart to see her this close to the edge.
He nodded, then raised his hands. “Well, thank you both for coming in. It’s nice when we can be brief and get about our day.” He stood and reached out to shake my hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Gillette, for organizing the fundraiser.” Then he turned to Grace, offering her his hand as well. “Mrs. Phillips, best of luck to your family as you manage through this crisis.”
“Thank you. If Carter wants to participate virtually in classroom discussions on days when he feels up to it, you may hear from me.”
“We have the technology, of course, but I’d need to check with policies and procedures. There are always laws and safety aspects when dealing with kids and technology. I’ll get back to you soon.”
“I appreciate it.” She nodded.
“Ladies, have a nice day.” He opened the door and waited for us to file out ahead of him.
“Bye,” we said in unison and then awkwardly walked out of the office and toward the check-in desk, side by side yet several feet apart.
Despite everything between us, I wanted details about Carter’s setback, so I blurted, “Grace, what’s going on with Carter? I’m concerned.” Tears backed up behind my eyes.
“Mimi.” Grace drew herself up with a deep breath while slowing her pace and meeting my gaze. “Out of respect for his privacy, I’d rather not discuss it with anyone right now.”
Privacy? The word felt like a door slammed in my face. We’d always shared all our parenting worries. Then again, I supposed his progress or lack thereof could affect the lawsuit and thus was taboo, but I hated it all the same.
“All right.” I kept walking toward the desk, sluggish with self-pity.
“I meant what I said earlier. The GoFundMe was very thoughtful,” she said. “I know you did it because of the budget vote and to cheer Carter up, so thank you. It doesn’t change our situation, but your heart is in the right place, as usual.”
Her cheeks turned hot pink. Finally, confirmation that my friend’s heart still beat somewhere beneath all her agony and exhaustion. Mine leaped at the idea that she might be starting to see that I was not the enemy and sole cause of her pain. I wanted to hug her, but she averted her gaze.
“You’re welcome.” I said nothing more. Until Carter came home and showed signs of a real recovery, the gulf between us could not close. I hoped things turned around quickly, because Grace looked too fragile to take more disappointment. “I hope Carter comes home soon. You must miss him.”
“We do.” When an unexpected sob rushed out, I reflexively hugged her. I needed it so much and hoped she wouldn’t push me away. Two seconds, maybe three passed before she started pulling away, quickly dabbing her tears.
I felt bereft as she stepped up to sign herself out.
“Have a good day, Mimi.”
The end of our first halfway-kind conversation in weeks landed like a soft jab to the ribs. “Thanks. You too.”
She scurried through the doors to the parking lot. My chest throbbed with a yearning to change the past and fix the present. Each week that passed chipped away at my bond with Grace. The damage might be irreversible.
“Good meeting?” Adam asked.
“As good as possible, I guess.” Swallowing the bittersweet lump in my throat, I signed out and walked to my car, wishing Grace and I could’ve gone to Sugar Momma’s and had ourselves a good long cry together before heading our separate ways. I might’ve gone by myself and cried to Hannah had I the time.
When I got to my shop, there was an envelope with my name on it taped to the front door. Please, God, don’t let this be some kind of landlord notice of a rent increase.
I opened the letter.
Mimi,
Is it time to plan a painting party? If you’re not ready to spend a whole day together, maybe we could graduate from lunch to dinner soon. Call me if you’re interested.
Rodri
I pressed the sheet of paper to my chest, savoring the little jolt of happiness. A painting party might break through my doldrums, but I wasn’t ready to introduce Rodri to Rowan.
On top of that, there was Dirk’s reaction to consider. One would h
ope that, since he’d left me for another, he wouldn’t begrudge me happiness with someone new. Yet Dirk had been snide about my relationship with Tony throughout its duration. Now I had the added concern of whether he’d use Rodri as more evidence of bad judgment and push harder to modify our custody arrangement. I couldn’t afford to fight a custody battle, which left me in a pretty weak position.
Surely Dirk wouldn’t risk getting Child Protective Services involved in Rowan’s life. Yet he’d never gotten this worked up before, so he had to honestly believe I was a bad mom. His trying to be a good father made it harder to hate him.
Business woes, lawsuits, custody threats, and friendship rifts—each of which had been hits to my self-esteem—scrambled my thoughts. Lunch with Rodri had been the only bright spot in weeks, and even that had come at a cost because of how it had hurt Grace.
I fanned myself with the note. My house could use some freshening up, and I’d love to spend a little time with a grown-up who didn’t consider me the devil. Maybe the next time Dirk took Rowan for the weekend, Rodri could help me paint my living room without everyone in town finding out. After all, I wasn’t an awful person, and I deserved good things, too. If we kept it quiet, what could it really hurt?
CHAPTER TWENTY
GRACE
Friday, February 26
Girl Scouts meeting
“Come on, Kim. We don’t want to be late,” I called up the back stairs after hurrying to put the few grocery items away. Another day of rushing from here to there, running late and barely present for anyone except Carter. Sam and I had never found the time for that honest discussion about our relationship, so each night the temperature in our bed dropped another degree as I silently cried myself to sleep. Daily failures deadened my family life bit by arduous bit.
Kim stomped down the stairs in her junior sash, replete with its many badges. “It’s not my fault if we’re late. You just got home from Carter’s again.”
As if I weren’t already laden with guilt about giving her too little attention this month. She was too young to sympathize or realize I was one person trying to support a sick child, teach my music students, walk a tightrope with my husband, and preserve some energy for her at the end of each day. That discussion wouldn’t make either of us feel better, so I said nothing. “I’m sorry. I’m here now, so let’s get going.”
“Did you remember the sticky notes and markers?” She eyed me skeptically. My heart sank even further in response to her expectation of being let down.
“I did.” Barely. Not that she needed to know. I had to pretend to be excited about this meeting, so I smiled. “They’re in the car, so let’s go.”
I dashed off a note for Sam, reminding him that I would pick up takeout on our way home from the Girl Scouts meeting. Maybe later tonight we could find time for a discussion that didn’t revolve around the kids.
Ten minutes later, Kim and I arrived at Tami Zaffino’s house, where we would be discussing leadership.
“Leadership is a silly topic,” Kim said as we strolled up the walkway.
“It’s actually really important.” If I’d learned it young, so much might be different now.
“I’m already a leader. People listen to me all the time. I don’t need lessons on it.”
I didn’t have the patience for this today. A terrible, selfish truth, but my God, I was running on empty. Never before had I wished for my kids to be older—I’d enjoyed doing these activities with them—but chronic stress had my bones as brittle as icicles and my nerves sharply bristling.
“A truly good leader always wants to listen and learn.” I knocked on the door.
Tyler Zaffino, the troop leader, answered. “Hey, so glad you guys could make it. Come on in. We’re about to get started.”
Kim flashed her a big smile and then dashed ahead of me while I set down the bags of supplies to take off my coat, dreading the inevitable questions that would come.
“I’ve been thinking about you all. How’s Carter?” Tyler asked, putting my coat on a hanger in the hall closet.
Even this many weeks later, well-intentioned questions made my throat clog with tears. The women here were all perfectly lovely people whom I considered friendly acquaintances, but they were not my confidantes. Mimi and Sam had been mine. And like with every reminder of what I’d lost, it seemed a little harder to breathe.
Tyler didn’t actually want to know about Carter’s daily sessions with Dr. Spotts or my family’s steady disintegration. “He’s progressing, thanks.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” She waved for me to follow her to the large family room, where eight other mother-daughter duos sat gathered beneath its vaulted ceilings, surrounded by bowlfuls of M&M’s, Cheetos, and pretzels.
If Mimi had had a daughter instead of a son, troop meetings would’ve always had more flair. She’d loved the few times I’d let her crash the ones I’d hosted. My favorite was when she’d brought craft paper and sparkly stickers and had all the girls create handmade cards for the old folks at Sandy Shores Care Center, which Mimi then delivered when she went to style their hair. Would there ever be a day when I didn’t feel a pang from some reminder of how much happier my life had been with my friend?
“Okay, everyone. Before we make our collages, let’s talk about this year’s theme—leadership. Who can name some qualities in a good leader?” Tyler asked.
Kim raised her hand, full of self-confidence. “You have to be smart and confident.”
Tyler smiled. “Yes, those are important. But what about things like resilience? Has anyone had to try to face something really hard and overcome it?”
Not to be easily dismissed, Kim said, “My brother’s fall has changed everything and my parents are always busy with him, so I’ve been alone a lot. It’s been scary, but I keep going.” She took a giant bite of a cupcake after her pronouncement. Despite the discomfort of watching the other women pretend not to feel sorry for me, I had to admire my daughter. She had “kept going” pretty well despite being somewhat neglected. I should praise her finer qualities more often instead of trying to fix her troubling ones. I would, too. Starting now.
Tyler replied, “I’m sure you’ve been very brave and helpful while your brother recovers. It makes me think of another leadership trait—empathy. Leaders need to be able to understand how other people feel. For instance, at school, if you ever see someone be left out, you might think about how lonely they could feel and then include them in your activity.”
I rubbed the ache from my chest. If Carter required a walker in the future, some might discriminate against him. Exclude him. Make assumptions based on that single fact of his life. He worried about that, yet I had no idea how to help him care less about other people’s opinions when so much of my life had been driven by them.
“Accountability is another key trait—taking responsibility for your actions, including your mistakes.” Tyler looked around the room at all the girls. “It’s important that, when you are a leader, you don’t take all the credit for the good things and lay blame for all the bad on your team. So let’s talk about what it means to be fair . . .”
Fairness. We routinely teach kids this concept in a way that sets them up for false expectations. Life hadn’t been fair to me as a kid, or to Carter. What we should have been teaching kids was how to cope with unfairness.
My phone rang, so I checked it, as I’d done with every call since the night of Carter’s accident. My pulse skipped ahead when Dr. Spotts’s number appeared. “Excuse me. It’s Carter’s doctor.”
I stood to walk away from the group, but not before first seeing Kim’s face fall. There’d been nothing fair about what she’d been asked to put up with lately.
When I got to the front entry, I sat on the cushioned bench, my knees jiggling in anticipation of more bad news. “Dr. Spotts, how are you?”
“Fine, thanks. I’m sorry I missed you earlier today but wanted to touch base about Carter. How are you finding his mood?”
“Unchan
ged. I did bring two friends to visit yesterday, which gave him a temporary boost.”
“He mentioned that. Leron says he’s hit a plateau with his physical progress, so we’re looking at modifications to get him over this hump. Carter and I talked about how everything in life is temporary, including this plateau. We’ve reminded him to listen to his body’s signals—sometimes it needs a rest. We’ve also talked about balance and patience. I’m recommending a meditation app to help him pull out of negative thought spirals and fears. It would be great if you and your husband could echo these ideas, maybe even join him in meditation when you visit to create a habit of it.”
As expensive as the rehab center was, I couldn’t have been more grateful for the world-class doctors’ advice and support. “We’ll certainly follow whatever you recommend and support him however we can.”
“Great. I’m also encouraging Carter to take advantage of any virtual classroom activities the school can provide. Socializing will help, although I know he’s hesitant about people seeing him looking weak.”
“That’s why I didn’t push. I’ll talk to my husband. He’s often better at getting Carter to see things through a more positive lens.” The back of my neck prickled because I’d been relying too heavily on Sam to carry that burden. Perhaps I’d been letting myself off the hook too easily, as if no one were suffering with regret as much as I.
“Terrific. Well, unless you have other questions, that’s it for now. We’re keeping a close eye on your son. This is nothing we haven’t come up against before, so don’t worry too much.”
“Thank you. I’ll be back tomorrow. If anything changes, please let me know.”
“Of course. Have a pleasant evening.”
After we hung up, I sat like a lump of clay on the foyer bench while happy chatter played in the background like a twisted soundtrack to my life. The girls were probably laughing and shoving fistfuls of candy in their faces.