lizards he’d given him in the car on the way to picking up Maddie had been a bad bribe.
“Uh, how about giving it a few more minutes? Here.” Ben picked a book from a stack of Chad’s favorites, which he kept in the bathroom for “encouragement.” “Read this. I have to go, but Grandma is here. Call out to her if no torpedoes launch. But not too loudly. Maddie’s napping.”
“Okay,” Chad said, taking the book.
Ben slipped into his room and grabbed his sweatshirt. Nina had picked up all the remaining toys and was checking Maddie’s backpack at the kitchen table.
“She hasn’t done her homework yet?” Nina asked, looking up from the student agenda.
“No. She can do it when she gets up, if she feels up to it.”
“But she was watching a video,” Nina said, putting the homework agenda back inside and propping the bag on a chair. Ben closed his eyes briefly and exhaled.
“She had a headache. Chad’s on the toilet. I really have to go.” He grabbed his wallet and keys. If he was going to make his appointment with the teacher, he needed to leave now.
“You go. I have everything covered. I really don’t mind helping. Especially since I guess I won’t get to help as much with Jack’s friend around.”
Oh, for crying out loud.
“You’ll be busy cooking for Thanksgiving and then the holidays. You wouldn’t want to deprive everyone, would you? Don’t worry, you’ll still see the kids,” he said, opening the front door.
“I hope so. Of course, you’ll bring them for Thanksgiving, then. Right? Even with losing Zoe, and with what Maddie is going through, there’s a lot to be thankful for.”
Ben’s temples started to pound, and his knuckles whitened against the doorknob. Everyone mourned in their own way, but being thankful was pushing it. She had to be in denial.
“Nina, I’ll bring them, but I’m not thankful for the drunk who killed my wife, and I’m not thankful for what my daughter is going through.”
“But you should be thankful that you’re here with your children and that they didn’t lose both parents. Be thankful that Zoe wasn’t still pregnant with Ryan when she was in that car.” Her eyes glistened and her voice hitched. “Ben, I need you all there to get through it,” she whispered.
Ben felt sucker punched. What if Zoe had still been pregnant? Bile burned his chest, and he swallowed the emotions churning with it. He nodded as he let go of the door. “Thanks for watching the kids,” he said. “Lock the door. It’ll be a couple of hours before I make it back.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you come home.” He could hear the door click shut behind him.
I’ll be here when you come home.
How many times had Zoe said those words over the years?
He double paced to the Expedition hogging the small driveway. After Zoe’s death, he’d bought a year-old model because of cost, but he wanted the equivalent of a tank to haul his kids around in.
At least maybe he could keep the rest of his family safe.
* * *
BEN SCANNED THE report card preview before him. It looked like a Fortune 500 company stock sheet. Numbers, letters, categories and subcategories. What happened to just giving students As, Bs and Cs? Or Fs... He quickly searched the columns, relieved when no Fs jumped at him.
Ms. Serval crossed her legs again and kept fiddling with her necklace. Did teachers really dress up that much for a school day? He wore his worst jeans just to get through a day with three kids. She had eighteen. Ben pretended not to notice when she flicked her hair back over her shoulder and leaned forward to pass him another sheet of paper, and tried not to pass out from her tear-gas perfume. Maybe that was what had triggered Maddie’s headache. What he really wanted was for the woman to turn off the background music in the classroom. It was driving him insane, but he didn’t dare give her a reason to get up and walk in front of him. Not in his precariously low position on the child-size chair he was in.
“What’s an N?” he asked.
“That stands for Needs Improvement,” said Ms. Serval.
“In class participation? Seriously? After our meeting at the start of the year with the school counselor, knowing what’s going on, did you really find it necessary to give her an N on her report card? I’m sure there are ways to show participation that don’t involve raising your hand and speaking.”
Ms. Serval pulled back and gave her skirt a tug.
“Well, she’s doing great academically, really, Mr. Corallis. I wanted you to have a chance to see her interim grades, since you missed the scheduled conference.”
“The office gave you my message about my youngest getting sick, right?”
“Yes, of course. I completely understand and sent you an email about rescheduling.”
She had? Crap. He had a vague recollection of one that he’d planned to get back to. And forgot.
“Please understand, the whole report card is computer based now,” she said, redirecting the conversation. “We have to input a grade or letter, and there are criteria we have to follow to be fair. I couldn’t put anything else, given the situation. I do understand the reason and I understand that she’s getting therapy for her selective mutism and to help her heal from her—your—loss. But it’s more than that. Lately, she acts as though she doesn’t care. As though she’s not paying attention. Zoning out in the afternoons. And once this week, when I tried to correct something on her paper, she simply crossed her arms and sat at her desk staring at her paper for almost an hour. She refused to respond to anything I said. By working, of course. I don’t mean verbally.”
“An hour?” he asked, adjusting his balance on the chair. Why had she let Maddie sit there that long without calling Mrs. Eggers, the school counselor, or him, for that matter? Ms. Serval gathered the report-card papers, then clasped her hands.
“Not quite an hour,” she said, tipping her chin, “but I was doing what I could. Mrs. Eggers wasn’t here that day. She covers other schools certain days of the week. I had to keep seventeen other students on task, Mr. Corallis. I tried to get her attention as I kept teaching, and hoped she’d come around on her own. It was so close to the end of the day that I didn’t want to encourage the behavior by letting her go home early.”
“I don’t think she was trying to be difficult or manipulative.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that at all.”
Then, maybe he needed a hearing aid. Ms. Serval scratched her cheek.
“It’s just that we’re almost through the first quarter and I’m worried that if she withdraws more, as opposed to showing improvement, it’ll take its toll on the rest of her school year. I realize you’ve been taking her to a therapist and thought you could share these observations. I’ll be honest. I spoke to Mrs. Eggers, and she mentioned the option of putting her in Special Ed if things got worse.”
“No.”
