Page 24 of Broken Blood Ties

School dismissal was half an hour ago. We marched the students to the usual pickup spot, releasing each classmate to their family until she was the only one left. It’s unlike her nanny to be late, so I stood there with her an extra ten minutes before kneeling down to ask her if she’d like to wait with me in the classroom. She agreed, and I walked her back while she anxiously fidgeted with her pleated skort.

Frozen, she stood in the door. She didn’t seem interested in talking, so I reached into my bag for the Skittles I’d swiped from the swanky teacher’s lounge and shook the candy in my held-out hand. She timidly smiled at me before walking up to take them. That was the last smile I got.

Now she stares at the bag. Her crisp white collared polo shirt is pressed and tucked into her green skort. A matching cardigan with the Ardenbrook emblem embroidered on the chest is draped over the chair where she took it off along with her gray peacoat, and her white knee-high socks peek out from the sturdy white shoes she wears with easy to fasten Velcro straps.

The outfit is what all the girls wear to class. The only difference for the mini gentleman is that chinos replace the skort.

That’s one of the reasons I hate the uniforms—lack of individuality. I realize the uniforms are encouraged to promote unity, and I’m sure instances of bullying are cut down because the kids don’t have an option to wear other clothes, name brand or not. But … sometimes I long to know what they’d pick for themselves. What would they wear to school if they could choose?

I lean back in my chair, nearly tipping back. The squeak of it prompts Aoife to look up, and she finally picks up the Skittles and rips open the wrapper.

She dumps the candy out on the table, letting them tumble onto the desk where they bounce in several directions. Picking out the purple, she gathers them into a pile while sliding the others over. Her tiny hands count the six purple before she pops one into her mouth.

“Is purple your favorite color?” Leaning forward, I’m enraptured by her and the possibility that this sweet girl came from an asshole like Kieran.

She nods and scoops another into her hand.

“And what do you do with the other colors? Do you like to eat those, too?”

The chair shrieks with an awful sound as I stand and move to sit with Aoife. The tiny stools around these tables are made for little children ages four and five, and I’m only slightly annoyed with myself that I don’t fit.

“When will my daddy get here?” Her voice shakes, and my heart aches for her.

“Soon, I’m sure. He most likely got caught up with something. But for now, you can hang with me.” I grin at her, while offering a slight nudge to her shoulder with mine that almost sends me toppling off the miniscule stool.

“What color isyourfavorite?” Aoife asks, pointing at the remaining Skittles on her side of the table.

“Hmm. Flavor wise I’d have to go with red.”

She sorts out the red ones this time and slides them over to me.

“Thank you,” I say as I pinch one between two fingers and set it on my tongue. It’s been ages since I’ve had candy and I’m grateful for the urge to have swiped them earlier.

“See? Not so bad, huh?” I say, trying to cheer her up. Frankly, I’m getting annoyed with Kieran and his nanny. I had the office call them both, but they couldn’t reach anyone. Someone should be here for Aoife … on time.

It’s irrational because I know something horrible could’ve come up, but still …

It used to be me. I was the one who showed up late, expecting others to wait for me because of who I was. Again, I’m not a stranger to it, but I changed. Now I make an effort to be on time. Early even.

“Do you think they forgot about me?”

“Not possible.” I give her little hand a squeeze. Needing to distract her, I stand again and move back to my desk. I log into my computer and search forThe Little Mermaid-themed coloring sheets. I’ve noticed Aoife likes to sing the music from that movie while she’s on the playground, pretending the tallest section of it is a castle under the sea. Her spirit seems to lift when she talks about Ariel and Flounder.

As the last Sebastian coloring page prints, I glance at Aoife. She tracks the colorful posters around the room, and though I know she’s seen them before, she still looks like she’s taking them all in for the first time.

I scooch the pile of coloring pages in front of Aoife along with the plastic bucket of crayons I keep over on the overly organized supply shelf. It’s my second favorite thing about being a teacher. Having to organize and decorate my room to be the most functional space for the kids—having the stations organized to foster their creativity. Obviously my first favorite thing about being a preschool teacher … the kids.

I place my hand on Aoife’s shoulder as she digs, searching for the perfect blue.

Where is her nanny? Or better yet … where is her father?

He surprised me the other night. Sitting down next to me to share a drink. I’d say it was his way of squashing the awkward tension from our meeting, but honestly, I think he was looking to make me uncomfortable.

After he left to speak with the business associate who wandered into his bar, Shelly, with my blessing, ditched me to go home with the “exceptionally attractive” man seated to her left. She left the bar mouthing “O.M.G” as she walked hand in hand with the man through the door.

I was on my own. And with the pub filling with more and more intoxicated men getting a touch too interested in my solo presence at the bar, I decided it was time to call an Uber and catch a ride to the train station.

I made it home entirely too late, having just enough energy to eat a row of Double Stuf Oreos and snag a quick shower. I never did get the food Shelly promised me when I agreed to go out with her.

---