to crawl out of bed, but after hitting snooze three times, I knew I had to get my ass up. By the time I got to the kitchen to make coffee, Devon was already sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. “Morning, mom.”
“Good morning, sweetheart. How’d you sleep?”
“Fine.” While I started filling the coffee carafe with water, he scooped up another spoonful of frosted flakes from his bowl. “Was Justin here last night?” he asked before putting the spoon in his mouth.
I shut off the water. “Yes, for a while.”
“I knew it.”
What did my young son even mean? That aside, if Devon knew Justin had been over last night, then Sarah likely did as well. And knowing that Justin had been here—what kind of effect did that have on my kids?
Did they know how often he’d been in my bed?
So I finished making the coffee and then sat down at the table. Maybe now was the time to dip my toe into potentially troubled waters. “What do you think of Justin, bud?”
“He’s nice, I guess.”
“Do you like him?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Do you think he’s trying to replace your dad?”
As the coffee pot started making noises, coming to life, Devon gave me a big smile. “He couldn’t do that, mom. My dad’s my dad.”
“I’m glad you said that. Because he’s not trying to.”
“I know.”
I smiled back and then stood, patting him on the head before leaving the kitchen to trek back down the hallway toward Sarah’s closed bedroom door. After I rapped on it, I said, “Sarah, honey, time to get up.”
Sarah muttered something imperceptible, but I suspected I knew the gist, so I responded by saying, “I know you don’t have to go today, but we need to take Devon to school.”
“I know.”
Well, at least she was halfway awake. So I took a quick shower and then slipped on a robe and checked that Sarah was out of bed. Then I made my way to the kitchen to get my first cup of coffee. My daughter sat at the table, picking at the marshmallows in her bowl of cereal. Devon was gone now, so he was probably in his room getting dressed.
Once more, I sat at the table, planning to have my coffee after talking with Sarah. “We’re going to get you some help, honey.”
“Help with what?” Sarah actually looked up from the bowl at me through sky-blue eyes. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with sadness that my little girl wasn’t so little anymore—but she wasn’t quite a woman, either. The nightgown hanging on her body was still that of a child, long and lacy, covered with tiny black and white sheep jumping fences. But she was already starting to change in the most subtle of ways and soon she’d start to show the curves that indicated her femininity—but right now she was in that in-between place.
And that made me profoundly sad.
“I really don’t know yet. But it’s evident to all of us that you’re having some problems…dealing with something. We’re going to get you some help.”
“What kind of help?”
“Someone to talk to.”
“Like who?”
“Someone trained to do this kind of thing.”
“Who?”
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay patient. “Honey, we talked about this yesterday. We’re going to find a psychiatrist or psychologist for you.”
Sarah dropped the spoon she was holding into the bowl, causing little oat pieces and tiny marshmallows to bounce onto the table. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
I scooted my chair closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. I wanted to pull her into my arms but she was already resisting a simple touch from my hand. “No, I don’t think you’re crazy. I just think you need some help. You seemed fine with this yesterday. There’s nothing wrong with getting help.”
“You think I’m crazy.”
“I think you need help. You set a fire at your school yesterday.”
Sarah stared at me for a few seconds, and I had no fucking idea what she was thinking. Then she shifted her gaze to the bowl of soggy cereal. When it was evident to me that my daughter didn’t intend to say another word, I took her in my arms, hoping that I could assure her that somehow everything was going to be okay…even though I myself wasn’t so certain.
* * *
When we returned home from taking Devon to school, Sarah went back to her room and lay on her bed. Part of me wanted to involve her in conversation, but I suspected it would be futile and could