I took a moment to let out a slow breath. “I promise to try not to curse anymore—but you’ve got to promise me the same thing.”
“Okay.”
But something gnawed at me and I was beginning to question everything. Was I sacrificing my children’s well-being in exchange for what I’d called my independence in my conversation with my father? “Sweetie, I’ve got to get ready for work now. Are you going to be all right?”
“I guess.”
Not really an answer—but I wasn’t going to demand more. Not now, anyway.
After getting in my work clothes, I walked the kids across the street to Noreen’s house. Fortunately, Sunday evenings at work were quieter than usual, and sometimes, I could even get some homework done. Tonight, I spent my time figuring out a work schedule for the craziness that was to come—and so I left a note for Kathy, hoping I could work it out with Sarah’s psychologist as well.
It had to work. Already, I felt like I was stretched tight like a guitar string, and every day the string got tighter. Much tighter and I would snap. So it had to work. That was all there was to it.
Chapter Twelve
After almost jumping out of bed early Monday morning, I made coffee and then finished my reading assignment for tomorrow night’s history class before rousting Sarah and Devon out of bed. Today was the first day Sarah would be back to school since her suspension, so, since I didn’t have to be at work until nine, I planned to stop by the counselor’s office at the middle school to let him know about Sarah’s psychologist.
“Are you ready to go back to school?” I asked Sarah as she nibbled on a piece of toast.
“I guess.”
Letting out a slow breath, I decided to be okay with that answer. At least she wasn’t actively resisting the return.
After dropping Devon off at the elementary school, I parked at the middle school. My daughter acted upset that I was walking with her in the first place, but I told her I had to stop inside. “Just promise me today will be a good day, and I’ll never have to do this again.”
“Right, mom.” I had no fucking idea what she meant, but I wasn’t about to grill her here. The last thing I wanted to do was further embarrass my daughter in a place where that sort of thing had probably already happened.
I watched as my child took a left at the end of the main entryway and disappeared out of sight. Only then did I turn to my right to rap on the counselor’s door. I didn’t have an appointment, so I hoped it was okay. After touching the door, I noticed it was open a crack, so I peeked my head in. The counselor had been looking at his computer screen but moved his eyes to me when I looked in.
“Hi.” He stood and extended his hand. “Sarah’s mother, right?”
That was promising. “Yes. Please call me Randi.”
“Only if you call me Kevin. Please have a seat.” Once I shook his hand and took his suggestion, he also sat back down. “So Sarah’s back in school today. What can I do for you?”
“I thought I’d keep you folks up to date. Sarah had her first psychology appointment on Thursday with Dr. Rebecca Hopkins.”
“She’s supposed to be good with kids.”
“I’m glad to hear that. She was highly recommended by the pediatrician. Anyway, Sarah had an, um…episode yesterday.”
“What happened?”
“She was at church with her grandparents yesterday and apparently started cursing and saying she doesn’t believe in God.”
“What did they do?”
“They were pretty shocked. Needless to say, they left church early.”
“I can’t blame them. What did Sarah say about it afterward?”
“When I talked to her, she said she doesn’t believe in God. I told her that was fine but what she did was inappropriate. She needs to respect other people’s beliefs.”
“That sounds like a good answer.”
“I don’t know. I’m doubting myself. I just don’t know what else I can do. I was hoping maybe you’d have some suggestions since you deal with this kind of thing all the time.”
As Kevin adjusted his glasses, he gazed at me through piercing blue eyes—and, for a second, I almost forgot what I was there for. “I have to tell you, Randi, I actually don’t deal with this kind of thing very often. Usually, I’m just dealing with typical prepubescent behavior—you know, name calling, some kissing in the hallway, girls wearing too much makeup, boys writing things