Page 28 of The New Guy
“No. You aren’t going to pay me a dime,” he says before taking a gulp of water. “I bought her that stuff because it’s cool to support the women’s team. And ’cause she said it’s hard being the new kid. I, uh, kinda get that.” He turns away and puts the glass on the counter, like it cost him something to admit that.
Now my heart is in danger of exploding. “Well, thank you. I’m sure it meant a lot to her. And I appreciate you stepping in to help me tonight when you had no need to.”
He shrugs, and his face is a little red, as if hearing praise is hard for him. “No problem.”
“I’d better go.” I edge toward the door, wishing he’d stop me.
He doesn’t, though. He thinks he can’t.
At least now I know why.
“Good night,” he says gently.
I show myself out.
NINE
Gavin
On Monday morning,Jordyn puts on her new Bombshells shirt for school. And the baseball cap, too.
It’s cold outside, and I’d prefer she wore a winter hat. But I let it go. It’s already a quarter of eight. Her lunch is made and packed. Her hair is braided just the way she likes. “Okay, coat on! Let’s do this! I have to get to work.”
“Daddy?” She’s just standing there with her coat. “I don't think I should go to school today.”
Uh-oh. “Why?”
“I have a sore throat.” She grabs her throat dramatically.
Ohhhhh shit. “That does sound bad,” I agree. Except Friday, she had a tummy ache, and Thursday, a pain which magically jumped from one side to the other while we were discussing it.
And on the weekend? Nothing but smiles. Still, I am afraid to brush aside her concerns. What if today it’s really strep? What kind of a parent would I be if I didn’t listen?
“Open your mouth and let me take a look.”
Her mouth opens like a little bird’s.
I peer in. But all I see is a pink tongue and not much else.A little help right now would be nice, Eddie. Can you send me a sign?
He was a pediatrician. He always knew exactly what to do in these situations. No, inallsituations. He was the calm, solid one. A rock in the river. He’d quietly assess a situation, make a sound judgment and then patch you up, if necessary.
I had a different role. I was the party boy, the comic relief. The one who made balloon animals to distract you while Eddie stitched up your wound. To say that I’m out of my depth now is putting it mildly.
“Listen,” I say as my daughter closes her mouth. “On a scale of one to ten, where one is an itchy mosquito bite, and ten is somebody trying to tell you the remake ofMiracle on 34th Streetis better than the original, how bad is your pain?”
She giggles.
“Well?”
“It’s a two,” she admits. “But it could get worse at any time.”
“It could,” I agree. “Your teacher should call me if that happens. If you don’t go to school, you can’t ask her for a specially timed birthday treat, can you?” This idea, apparently, came courtesy of Hudson. Jordyn woke up thinking about him.
I know the feeling.
“Okay,” she says, zipping up her coat with careful fingers. “If it gets real bad, I’ll ask her to call.”
“Good deal,” I say, relief coursing through me. My sister and I are both working today, and I don’t want to be the new guy who calls in for childcare issues ten days after his hire date.
