As I looked back, I knew that my daughter had started withdrawing, becoming introverted sometime over the past year. Had I missed something obvious during that time? “Do you think that has anything to do with how she’s been acting?”
“Anything’s possible. You might consider family therapy to help her talk about whatever she’s feeling, get those issues out in the open. If she’s feeling hurt or rejected because you’re not focusing one-hundred percent of your attention on her, she could be acting out.” He blinked a couple of times before continuing. “Do you have insurance?”
“Sarah’s on her father’s insurance.”
“Then you might look into what therapists in our area are covered under his plan. In the meantime, I’m afraid I’ll have to come off as the bad guy. I realize Sarah must be going through a rough patch but my job is to keep all the students here safe…so I’m suspending Sarah from school for the remainder of the week.”
I just stared at him, surprised my jaw wasn’t literally open—but I was at a loss for words.
“She can, of course, return to school Monday.”
The breath evaporated from my body as if someone had hit me in the stomach. Just the thought that maybe I’d done this to my child…
“Of course.” My voice echoed in my ears as if it didn’t belong to me.
“Right now, we have her in the counselor’s office.” When he stood, I followed suit. “She’s refusing to talk, and we were going to have her gather up her things in her backpack, but—well, in her present state of mind, I and the counselor thought it best to just let her be until you got here.”
In silence, I followed Mr. Cooper back through the maze of cubicles and out into the hall where the ever-present smell of the school once again assaulted my nostrils. Then he stepped over to the office marked “Counselor.” After he rapped on the door, he opened it without waiting for the counselor’s voice inviting him in.
As if it established who was in charge, the counselor’s office was smaller than the principal’s, but it also had a big window on the right-hand side looking out over the front of the school. The other window that opened up to the main hallway was covered with miniblinds, presently closed. Much like Mr. Cooper’s office, the counselor’s desk sat in the middle of the room with one entire back wall covered with bookshelves.
But my eyes were drawn toward my daughter Sarah. She was slumped in the loveseat across from the desk, her small arms folded across her chest. I noticed right away that my child didn’t look angry or depressed. In fact, her expression was devoid of all emotion. If I had to describe her face at that moment, she looked bored. Her blue eyes were half-closed, staring across the room—but as I tried to see her through the eyes of another, I saw a problem child. Her long brown hair, something she inherited from me, cascaded over her shoulders and partially blocked one side of her face. Worse, it was stringy and unruly, like she’d been in a fight or hadn’t bothered pulling a brush through it in a couple of days. It was no wonder these people thought I was a shitty mother.
The soft-spoken counselor, a man with dark hair, said, “Ah, you must be Sarah’s mother.” When he stood, Sarah finally looked up at me, but there was no emotion in her expression.
It didn’t stop that guilty feeling beginning to brew in my gut.
“Yes.”
“Kevin Campbell.” When he held out his hand, I shook it. “Mr. Cooper explained the situation?”
“Yes. We talked about possible options…”
“Good idea. Now may not be the right time to talk, but I’m happy to help in whatever way I can.” Opening a drawer, he pulled out a card and handed it to me. “My number, in case you need to call.”
“Thank you. Is there anything else I need to do right now?”
I’d almost forgotten about the principal until he cleared his throat. “We’ll need to have you sign her out at the office for the rest of the day.”
My child still seemed uninterested in everything going on around her, so I said, “Come on, Sarah.” When she stood, I marveled at how much she’d grown, because she was now just one foot shy of my height. I put an arm over her shoulders, but she didn’t respond, other than moving in the same direction I did.
By the time I signed Sarah out on the clipboard at the front desk, I felt numb, barely registering the last few words Mr. Cooper said to me—that Sarah could catch up on her homework when she got back to school but not to worry about it right now. Side by side, we walked in silence to my old green van. I wanted to say something—anything—but my mouth was dry and pasty again. Besides, I had no idea what to say, how to start.
As we got in the car, I thought of Justin. After something like this, I normally would have planned to call him, because he was my sounding board, my confidant—but if he was the reason why Sarah was acting out, that was the last thing I needed to do.
After Sarah climbed in the passenger side, she hung her head as if scrutinizing her jeans. When I looked at her, I remembered seeing my child for the very first time, holding her in my arms, wondering how I could ever be a mother.
But I’d done it.
For eleven years, I’d been a parent—not a perfect one, but I’d done my best. I loved my children, wanted the best for them, wanted a better life for all of us.
Somewhere along the way, though, I’d failed.
Gripping the keys like a lifeline, I let out a heavy breath. “I love you, baby girl.”
I wondered, though, if that love for her would be enough.
Chapter Two
“Kathy, I’m really sorry, but can you cover the rest of my shift?” My voice sounded hollow in my ears as I spoke into the phone. After Sarah and I had gotten home, my daughter had shuffled back to her room even while I was talking to her, as if she couldn’t hear a word I was saying. But I had to take care of work first.
“Okay,” Kathy said. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m really not sure. I’ll update you tomorrow. Thanks for asking.” After hanging up, I glanced at the time. I still had about an hour before I’d have to pick up Devon from the elementary school, so I then called Noreen, my neighbor across the street. “I just wanted to let you know the kids won’t be there this afternoon.”
“Sounds good, Randi.”
“Can we, um…talk sometime soon?”
“Yeah, sure. Is everything okay?”
“I can’t really talk about it right now.” Sarah’s door was closed, but that didn’t mean shit. It wasn’t like I was whispering.
As much as I hated broaching the subject with the woman, Noreen agreed. Like it or not, I needed to find out if she’d noticed any changes in Sarah that maybe I’d missed.
But now it was time for a talk—the problem was I didn’t know what to say to Sarah or what to ask. I grabbed the pack of cigarettes out of my purse and stepped onto the tiny porch at the back of my house and lit a cigarette. What could I say to my child to get through to her? How could I get her to understand that what she’d done today had crossed a line? Hell, I was even worried that she might be charged with arson.
In my head, I could see the cold, not-giving-a-shit expression Sarah had been wearing for the past few months and doubted anything I could say would make an impression.
How had Mr. Cooper figured out Sarah was the one who set the fire? Maybe this whole thing was just a big misunderstanding.
I took a deep drag of the cigarette, feeling the calm it brought to my nerves, hoping when I talked to Sarah, I’d discover this whole thing was a mistake.
But that was a big lie I was telling myself—because even if Sarah hadn’t started the fire, something was going on with her. And Mr. Cooper was right. I needed to get Sarah into counseling. Nothing I’d been doing had made a damn bit of difference.
Again, the idea that Justin might be the problem gnawed at me. He and I had started seeing each other about a year earlier—and Sarah’s behavior problems had started sometime after that. Exactly when, I wasn’t sure. Justin liked my kids and my kids
seemed to like him. And, while I loved that man’s company, I had no plans to marry or even move in with him. Fortunately, he understood my kids always came first.
Until now, I’d sworn my kids and Justin had all but loved each other—but something was wrong and I had to wonder if Justin had anything to do with it.
If he did…I’d have to kick him to the curb.
First, though, I needed answers from Sarah, whether she liked it or not.
After letting out a long stream of smoke, I crushed the butt in the small glass ashtray sitting on the wrought iron table by the back door and grabbed the doorknob. Before I’d have a chance to second guess myself, I walked through the house and down the hall toward Sarah’s closed bedroom door. That it was closed said more than words.
I rapped on it, avoiding the kitten poster Sarah had tacked on it at Christmas three or four years ago. It had been a present from her dad, and Sarah had loved it—but I doubted she’d taken any joy in it, much less even looked at it, over the past year. Sarah didn’t answer my knock and my eyes drifted from the kitten’s eyes to the doorknob, and I decided right then and there no more closed doors in this house.
I knocked one last time. Still no answer. “Sarah?” Finally, I turned the knob and opened the door. My daughter sat quietly on the edge of her bed looking toward the floor, a pile of bed covers hunched up around her. She didn’t acknowledge my presence, much less act like she’d even noticed the door was now open. Drawing in another breath to fight back tears I hadn’t known were there, I stepped into the room.
I sat on the edge of the bed beside her, not saying anything at first. Lowering my head, I tried to look at Sarah’s face underneath the hair covering it. I used my fingers to pull some locks back before nudging her chin so I could look in her eyes. But she kept looking down even while facing me straight on. Whether she chose to look at me or not, I decided to talk. “Sarah, I don’t know what’s going on, but I want to help—and if you don’t tell me, I can’t.” With a sigh, I took her hands in mine. “As your mother, it’s my job. I’m supposed to take care of you.” Still nothing.
I had no idea what else to say—but, until Sarah started talking, silence wasn’t an option for me.
So I forced more words out. “I remember bringing you home from the hospital. You were so tiny, so delicate. So fragile. I knew then that you were the biggest responsibility I’d ever have in my life. And somehow I’ve messed up. Whatever’s going on, honey, we can face it together. We’re a team here.” When Sarah looked up, her eyes felt like they were burning through mine—as if she had nothing to say yet had passed severe judgment on me. In response, my throat clenched—but then the stare from her that I’d grown used to changed. Softened. “I love you, Sarah.” It was then that a small tear formed in the corner of her eye, so I drew her close, holding her in a warm embrace as that tiny tear turned into a full-on crying jag.
For the longest time, I stroked her hair while she buried her head in my chest. As her sobs died down, I asked, “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Without hesitation, she shook her head—but I wasn’t ready to give up. This was the most emotion I’d seen from my child in months. We were making progress. “Sweetheart, I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.” Thinking back to my stint in middle school, I asked, “Are you getting teased by other kids?”
At first, she shook her head as she had moments earlier, but then she began to nod ever so slightly. “A little.”
“Is that what’s bothering you?”
“Not really.”
At last, I had her talking—and while I was nervous about her potential answers, I felt the need to brave into darker territory. I needed to know and she seemed ready to spill. “I’m not going to be angry with you, no matter what your answer, but…are you experimenting? Maybe trying drugs or alcohol?”
“No.”
Her answer didn’t make me feel any better. “Were you playing with cigarettes?”
“No.”
“Sex?”
She didn’t respond right away. Finally, though, she said, “No.”
It wasn’t reassuring.
“Honey, do you know you can tell me anything? Anything?” I paused, looking down at my child’s face, but her eyes were glued to her jeans. “What happened today that made you light the fire?”
At first, Sarah shrugged, pulling away from me before wiping her nose on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, but she looked at me before she began talking. “I don’t know. Some eighth graders were looking at me funny when they were walking down the hall, and they were laughing. It made me mad. They’re snotty girls who think they own the school, and that’s their bathroom. I thought it might teach them a lesson.”
Ah, finally. Confirmation. Not that I wanted it, but it felt like we were getting somewhere. “Are you sure they were laughing at you?” Sarah nodded emphatically. “I get why you would be upset, but that’s not the way to deal with things, honey. You could have burned the whole school down.” Up to that point, Sarah had been maintaining eye contact, but now she looked back down at her jeans. Before speaking again, I made sure my voice was soft and gentle. “You could have even been in trouble with the law. Fortunately, Mr. Cooper thought three days’ suspension would be enough punishment.”
That was a lie. While he hadn’t said anything, I didn’t know for certain that they weren’t going to do more—that was merely a hope. More than that, though, how a suspension was a punishment for Sarah I couldn’t quite understand. As near as I could tell, she didn’t want to be at school, so she was getting what she wanted—meaning this was actually turning out to be a punishment for me.
I grew angry with myself for even thinking that. After all, my child was suffering. Now was not the time to feel sorry for myself. I could work out the details of her not attending school later, so I cleared my head once more while I waited for my child’s response.
“I didn’t think about that.”
“Mr. Cooper thinks that maybe we need some counseling.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like a therapist. Someone you, or all of us together, can talk to. Someone who can help us with our problems, tell us ways we can handle them.”
“No one can help me.”
Oh, God. I touched Sarah’s chin. “That’s not true, sweetheart.” Pulling her back into my arms, I struggled with what I wanted to say, because I wasn’t sure how to say it. “We’re going to do it for a while. If you don’t think it’s helping after you give it a fair shot, then we’ll stop. Deal?”
“I guess.”
After holding her in silence for a while, I said, “Sweetheart, it’s time to pick up Devon, okay?” When I stood, she did as well, and I felt a little relief. While I really hadn’t done or learned anything, I felt like we’d made it over a hurdle.
My next task would be to call her dad—but that would have to wait.
Soon, we were in the van waiting for Devon. When my son bounded out of the elementary school, he smiled, making his dimples pop out. Unlike Sarah and me, Devon had light hair, a dirty-blond color that was changing to light brown the older he grew—but his eyes were green like his dad’s, and he had a smattering of freckles on his cheeks like I had at his age. He was looking around, trying to spot Sarah, no doubt, so I got out of the van and waved, calling his name.
Before we got in the van, he asked, “Why are you here, mom?” Then he hugged me around the waist, reminding me I still had one kid willing to do that.
I wasn’t about to tell him all that had transpired that afternoon. “I had to pick Sarah up from school today.” To throw him off the scent as well as to lighten the overall mood, I said, “Why don’t we go out for a piece of pie and something to drink?”
Devon’s eyes grew wide. “Before dinner?”
“Yes, before dinner. We’re going to break the rules today. How’s that sound, Sarah?”
Sarah shrugged her left shoulder and didn’t make eye contact, but she did say, “Okay.”
/> That she wasn’t completely sour and seemed open gave me hope.
* * *
The kids had been in bed for an hour or two but here I lay in mine unable to sleep. Over and over, I replayed the day’s events in my mind. Worse, though, I felt helpless, unable to figure out what more I could do for my child. Add to it, I hadn’t called Sarah’s father that afternoon to get information on figuring out in-network therapists in Winchester, meaning I also hadn’t scheduled that appointment.
The day had been far too emotional and I’d put off everything else.
And now, all I could think was that I was the world’s worst mother.
Finally, I got out of bed, pulling on a thin robe before going to the utility room at the back of the house to light up a cigarette. Late at night, especially when it was cold out, I allowed myself to smoke inside—but this was the only room where I did.
I was also holding my cell phone, staring at it. The time was a quarter after ten.
Not too late.
So I sent a quick text. Hey, are you free?
Then I sucked down the smoke, feeling some of my anxiety beginning to dissipate. If Justin didn’t answer, I’d try going to sleep again after finishing the cigarette.
But I’d almost finished it and had no response from the text I’d sent—meaning my friend was likely already occupied. Just as I was ready to completely give up, though, he responded with a simple Yeah.
That was all the confirmation I needed to call.
“Hey, Rascal. You know I’m always free for you. What’s up?”
I didn’t actually want to tell him anything. Instead, I wanted him to distract me from the incessant thinking. “Today was pretty rough.” I paused, because I wasn’t sure how to word my request. After all, Justin would be at my place tomorrow night—but I needed him now. “I, um…wondered if you’d mind coming over tonight to talk.”
“Well, uh…”
I knew immediately from his response that I shouldn’t have called. “Never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5) Page 2
