by Tiana Cole
I sat up slowly, as tired as I was, and made my way to the window of my charming little bedroom. It really was charming, and the little window seat was the perfect place for me to sit and calm my nerves, maybe read a book. I thought about all of those books lining David’s massive bookcases and wondered which one was his favorite. I wondered if he had a favorite anything, anything at all.
Chapter Three
Kayla
“Are those foods? You got food things in there?”
I smiled widely and turned to greet my little charge. She couldn’t quite say her r’s yet, which made her delivery all the cuter. I kneeled down on the ground again, something that she had quickly come to expect of me, and welcomed the still sleepy Sophie into my waiting arms. It was amazing how much a person that small could make you feel in such a short amount of time.
At only four years old Sophie’s capacity for love was still infinite and it made it all that much easier to love her back. And it didn’t hurt that she was one hundred percent adorable, without having to try at all, all of the time.
Take now, for instance. She wore a long, faded Star Wars shirt that was long enough to be an evening gown on her and clutched a bright pink towel around her neck just like a cape. I loved her constant juxtaposition between the extreme girly and the epic dude movies that everyone knew and loved. She was entirely her own person, with no apologies and a curiosity that drove her question absolutely everything around her.
Looking at her now, I brushed her thoroughly messy blonde hair out of her face and gave her a little kiss on the forehead. She beamed up at me with eyes full of undying loyalty and need, smiled, then said, “Again.”
That was something else I had noticed about Sophie, something that was a little bit different than the kids I was used to from my class. It was normal for kids her age to still be physically affectionate with the people that they trusted. They were all about the hugging and the sitting in your lap during story time. It wasn’t quite the same with Sophie, though.
In the short amount of time I had spent with her I had already noticed that she craved affection on an entirely different level than the children I was used to working with. She lusted after it the way a starving man salivated over a crust of bread, like she hadn’t been loved enough in a long, long time. Did that have something to do with her mother not being in the picture? Did David not give her the attention and security she needed? Because make no mistake, affection was security for a child.
Knowing that she was loved was every bit as important to Sophie’s safety as her knowing that she would be fed or have a bed to sleep in at night. I couldn’t help but wonder if David didn’t have enough time for her or if he simply didn’t care about her all that much. Maybe she was just too low on his priority list. I could add that to the ever-growing list of things I needed to learn about Dr. Wyatt, but for now I was going to make sure Sophie knew how much I wanted her around. At least in that respect I was sure that I could do some actual good.
“It is food. It was my favorite when I was your age. I hope you like it too.”
“What kind is it?”
“Pancakes!”
“Yes! Can we make shapes? Can we make the cakes in shapes?”
“We can try. Wanna help me do it?”
“Yuppers I do. I’m a real good helper. Real good.”
I laughed and grabbed a step stool so that she could stand beside me at the massive counter. The kitchen looked like it hadn’t been used in years and I felt a little bit bad about messing it up. I wasn’t entirely sure I was allowed to be cooking in here. I felt a lot less bad about it once Sophie started helping me, though. She looked so completely excited and that was worth any kind of disapproval I might get on the part of her father. Her chubby pink face was covered in flour and syrup and her pink towel lay forgotten on the floor. As she dumped syrup directly into the batter—a strategy I was unfamiliar with but more than willing to try—she let out a crow of delight and satisfaction.
“Bullseye!” she shouted, hopping from one tiny foot to the other.
“Bullseye!” I laughed, slipping one hand behind her, just in case her little victory dance caused her to lose her balance.
“We’re a team, right?”
She asked me in such an earnest way that it brought tears to my eyes. I hardly knew this little girl and she already thought of us as being a team. It made me think of Nikki with such clarity that I began to ache. She used to be my team, my partner in crime. She had actually called us that, too. She used to tell me we made a good team, right before we got into trouble for something stupid we knew we shouldn’t have done. I missed her. I missed her so, so much.
“Well, what do we have here?”
I turned quickly, feeling sheepish, as if I had just been caught doing something I shouldn’t have. David stood in the doorway watching Sophie and I doing our little cooking dance, just the faintest hint of a smile on his face.
Was he mocking me or was he pleased? It was hard for me to say, so I tried to just ignore the expression completely. It was hard to do. I had to admit, he really was a good-looking man. In some ways it made it easier to dislike him and in some ways it made it easier. I had never seen him quite like this, though, and it was slightly unnerving. He hadn’t yet tamed the unruly curls of his hair or tied his always smart tie. He looked more human this way, more like a normal man with an actual life.
I smiled at him tentatively, wondering if he would join us in the pancake extravaganza, but he remained where he was. It seemed that he would rather just observe than participate and I wondered how often that was the case. Maybe that was part of the reason Sophie was so starved for attention.
“What we have here is pancakes. Sophie has some very unusual methods for making them. Seems like she’s all set to be a little inventor.”
I thought that would make him smile, but instead his eyes clouded over and it was clear that he had gone to some other place in his head. It didn’t look like it was a cheerful place.
“Is she? That’s nice.”
His voice was distracted and he made his way to the messy kitchen table to go through what looked like thousands of papers. How did he find anything on that table? I always felt like a cluttered environment meant a cluttered mind. Is that what he had? A cluttered mind? If so, just what was it that was distracting him? I had to wonder if it had anything to do with the thing that led him to give my sister a medication that wound up killing her instead of making her better.
“We made them for you, too! We made millions I think.”
Sophie was off her stool and sprinting across the kitchen to him as quickly as her fat little legs would carry her. She was so proud to be making him breakfast and I cringed, hoping that they actually tasted like food. Her creativity was admirable, but not necessarily the best thing for the flavor profile of our breakfast. She reached him and went to wrap her arms around his leg, but she was rebuffed.
I couldn’t help it. My mouth dropped open in shock. I had never seen a man shrug his daughter off that way. The motion had such an air of finality to it that it made it clear that he had no interest in Sophie touching him.
“Don’t you want to see them, Daddy?”
That’s when things got worse. Not only did he shrug her off, when he heard the word “daddy” come out of her sweet little mouth he cringed. He actually visibly cringed. It was very clear to me that he didn’t like hearing her say that, and if it was clear to me, it was clear to Sophie.
Sometimes people were so stupid when it came to children. It was like they didn’t think kids could tell what was going on around them. How did they not realize that children picked up on everything? They could tell how you felt in general and they could definitely tell how you felt about them. No wonder she was so eager for attention. Her own father acted like he couldn’t stand getting close to her. That would do a number on anyone.
He glanced up and saw me watching him, then stood abruptly. I’d never had much of a poker face, that was a fact.
I’ve always been one of those people whose emotions are written all over their face, whether I liked it or not. With the things going through my head watching that interaction, god only knew what kind of expression I had at the moment. Whatever it was, it was enough to make it clear to David that I strongly disapproved of what had just transpired between him and Sophie. He stood abruptly, tightening his tie in an almost defensive gesture.
“She’s covered in flour,” he said weakly, actually taking several steps back from where Sophie sat on the floor. She looked up at him with hurt and confusion and I continued to stare at him in poorly masked disgust.
“I’ve got to go to work. I wouldn’t have time to change. Thanks for the breakfast, ladies, really. But I’ll have to take a raincheck.”
That was all of the excuse he offered up and then he was gone, the door to the kitchen swinging in his wake. If we had been in a cartoon, there would have been burnt tire marks and smoke following closely behind him. What a prick. In a very short amount of time I had become a hell of a lot less conflicted about whether or not I should really try and dig up the dirt that would ruin Dr. Wyatt.
Of course I should. Of course a man who would treat his daughter like that would do any number of other things that would harm people, destroy them. It was pretty evident that the only person he cared about was himself. What was the point of feeling guilty for undermining a man like that?
“He doesn’t want me.”
Sophie delivered the line like a little miniature adult. It was so matter of fact it made my insides hurt, like it was just another part of life that she would have to deal with. But then she started to cry, to sob like she would die from the heartbreak of it all, and she was totally and completely a child once again.
I went to her, got down on the floor next to her and wrapped my arms around her as she crawled into my lap. All childish heat and salty tears, she buried her face into my shoulder, cried until she was too tired to cry anymore. I never told her to stop. A child should be allowed to feel their heartbreak without being told to be quiet and put on a happy face. All of us should, for that matter.
When she was all cried out she turned her face up to look at me. It was such a sweet face, so ready for consolation, and I kissed her on the forehead again so that she would know that I loved her. I very much hoped that she would believe me, that she would be able to see through my earnest eyes and know that it was true. I wanted to tell her that what she had said wasn’t right, that of course her dad wanted her, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to lie to her and I wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t be. I would have to be enough, at least for now.
“We’re a team, right?”
I said the words softly, watching her face intently as I spoke. It lit up immediately and she let out another little crow of success. That was all it took for her, one person telling her that she wanted her as a teammate.
“Right!”
“Good, I need a teammate. Now, I have a very, very important question for you.”
“What is it?” Eyes wide, mouth in a perfect little “o,” her body practically vibrating with anticipation.”
“Want to play a game?”
She collapsed into a fit of giggles on the floor and nodded her beautiful blonde head. Good. Who cared if her father acted like a complete jackass? We had each other for the day and I was going to make damned sure that it was enough.
***
“So how was the day? Did everything go alright for you two? Are you getting along?”
“Oh sure, sure we are. She really such a fun little girl. I think we’re getting along really well.”
“That’s good. I was hoping you would.”
“I did have one question for you though.”
He looked up quickly with one eyebrow raised and a somber look on his face. That was one intimidating look and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself and calm my nerves. I was going to ask him this, whether he liked it or not.
“Sure. Ask me anything. What seems to be the problem?”
That was an interesting question, and one I wasn’t sure how to answer. I wasn’t exactly sure what the problem was, that was part of the issue. It was true, Sophie and I had managed to have a good day with each other, but it hadn’t been easy and it had shown me some things about her that had me concerned. To begin with, she was wild. Every child her age is wild at least part of the time, but she was wild on an elevated level. She had an energy I couldn’t hope to match and I spent a good part of my day just trying to keep up with her.
She had been so amped up by my suggestion of playing a game, and to my delight that excitement did not seem to diminish when I told her that the game I wanted to play was school. Children Sophie’s age were good that way. They could enjoy almost anything, as long as you packaged it the right way. She was completely up for the challenge and I was excited to see what she knew. Once a teacher always a teacher, I suppose.
The problem was, excitement was pretty much all she had. She seemed to be missing almost all of the essential skills a child her age should possess. When I tried to go over her colors with her she could not remember the names. When we read together she was more than happy to look at the pictures but she could not identify or write any of her letters. She could not read one single word. It was like she had been raised with wolves or something. It was like nobody had ever attempted to teach her a single solitary thing in her whole entire life.
I didn’t understand it, not even a little bit. How did that happen with the child of a doctor? The school I had so recently taken a leave of absence from had not been in a nice area. The children I taught faced the very real possibility that they would not receive a proper dinner at night, that they would not be fed on the weekends at all. They were lucky if their parents took an interest in them, let alone if they were able to help them to learn. But that wasn’t the case here. David was a well-respected doctor. He had everything to give Sophie and yet she knew less than the children in my class. What was the point of all of that advantage if he chose to use it only for himself? Thinking about it now, I had to be careful not to let myself get too worked up. I needed to talk to David about it and flying off the handle and screaming at him probably wouldn’t promote a productive conversation.
“It’s about Sophie.”
“I assumed it was. What about her?”
“Well, you know I was a kindergarten teacher. I mentioned it in the interview, right?”
“You did. It was one of the reasons I hired you on the spot, as a matter of fact.”
“The thing is, after you left today, Sophie was upset so I suggested that we play a game. I suggested that we play school. I like to try and get them to play things that will be beneficial for them and at this age they haven’t decided that school can’t be fun yet.”
“I like that. It sounds like an ingenious strategy.”
“Well, thank you. The problem is that when we tried to play, she was behind. She’s very behind, Dr. Wyatt. She doesn’t have the knowledge that a little girl her age should have and I’m concerned for her. These things don’t just get better on their own. The longer you let it go the more behind she will get until she feels like it is impossible to catch up. Once she gets to that point, where she knows she is behind and it feels insurmountable, it will be so much harder to help her to reach her potential.”
It all came out in a rush of words and as I finished I half expected him to chastise me for my insubordination, but he didn’t. His reaction surprised me, actually, and in a good way. This whole thing was rapidly becoming so much more complicated than I had anticipated. Every time I thought I had it figured out, the situation would change. Dr. Wyatt would change.
“First thing’s first, Kayla. Call me David. Please. I get so tired of being called Dr. Wyatt. I don’t think I can bear to hear it in my own home.”
“Alright, I can do that.”
“Thank you. Now, Kayla, tell me. Was there anything else you noticed about Sophie today?”
“What
do you mean?”
“Did you notice how energetic she was? How wild, how difficult it was for her to sit still?”
“Yes, of course I did. It would be sort of difficult not to.”
“And what usually happens to children like that once they are in school? The children with the ADHD so obvious the teacher points it out before they even walk through the front door?”
I was silent. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this and so I had no idea what I was supposed to say. David sighed and ran his hand through his hair, a distracted and slightly pained look on his face.
“Kayla, I know she doesn’t know the things a child her age should. Believe me, I know. I haven’t had the time I need to teach her those things and it makes it harder that she has the attention difficulties.”
