Page 95 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“You have exactly three minutes until children come flooding out of cars.”
“Four words. Locker room shower shenanigans.” She puts a finger up with each word.
“Oh? Sounds … interesting.”
“Melissa. The new woman.”
I put a hand up. “Wait, let me guess. You didn’t know if she was queer. But now you do.”
Ruth closes her eyes and nods, relishing her ability to attract almost anyone.
“And you seem a little extra chipper this morning,” she says. “Does it have something to do with a word that rhymes with ‘feather?’”
I make a fist near my head before opening it with a loud explosion noise crackling from my mouth.
“Damn,” Ruth says, her face split by an enormous grin, and right on cue, car doors fly open.
Like two whack-a-moles, Ruth and I pop in and out of cars, prodding children out to keep the cars flowing. We work in tandem, moving past each other to reach the next vehicle, and my chest swells when the line dwindles.
In the flurry of little bodies rushing into the building, I don’t notice Brodie charging at me like a baby rhino until he crashes into me. His arms wrap around my waist, squeezing me with the force of a boa constrictor.
“Mr. Lester, good morning!” Brodie’s mom shouts from the driver’s seat. In his eagerness to dart over, he’s left the car door open, and she’s trapped until someone closes it.
“Good morning!” I call back. “Brodie, let’s shut the door so Mom can get to work.”
I glance down, and his face remains hidden in the curve of my stomach. When Brodie’s parents brought him to kindergarten screening, they informed us they “knew something was off” and “needed help.” They listened and nodded as I explained how we’d care for their son. The school was now part of Team Brodie. Almost two years have passed, and he’s finally getting that evaluation.
“I got it,” Ruth calls, jogging over from the car behind and slamming the door.
“Thank you, Ms. Parrish!” his mom shouts and drives off.
I pull Brodie’s hand from my back and gently hold it.
“Want me to walk you inside?” His eyes finally meet mine and he nods. “Let’s go find Mr. Soleskin.”
We head into the building, Brodie’s small hand gripping mine, and make our way to his classroom. The warmth from his tiny fingers in mine travels up my arm and swells in my chest. The entire school is rallying behind Brodie, and I know he’s going to be okay.
“Nice shirt, boss,” Helen teases.
With spring looming, I finally broke down and bought some new clothes. Short-sleeved polos, khakis, and new underwear. The old ones were falling apart, and it was time. Corrine used to buy most of my clothes, which I actually liked—one less thing to worry about. Understandably, after the divorce, she assured me she’d no longer be my personal shopper. With some suggestions from Ruth, I found an online store with basic and attractive clothes. I’m wearing a cream shirt with a solid navy-blue stripe across the chest today. Apparently, it’s now my lot in life to have things splashed across my torso.
“Hey, we can’t all pull off a denim jumper,” I say, and Helen’s eyes crinkle as she smiles.
“The Hopscotch crew is already in the conference room,” she says. “I told them we’ll need it for the IEP meeting at eleven.”
“No worries. I’ll handle it,” I say. Not only does Helen take care of the entire school, but she’s also always watching out for me. Pausing at her desk, I ask, “How are you, Helen?”
She pulls her cocked head back and dips her chin.
“Fine? Why?”
“No reason. Just wanted to make sure you’re doing well. And if you ever need anything, you let me know.”
“Sure thing,” she says. “I could use a large black coffee. One that lasts all day. And for my husband to put his dishes in the dishwasher. He doesn’t even have to turn it on. Just put them in the dishwasher.” Helen laughs and turns toward her computer. Before I make it to the conference room, she yells, “And for the Bruins to win the Stanley Cup!”
“The server is up.” Shreya holds a cup of coffee, and I worry it might spill as she motions with her hands. Vincent sits a few feet away, and his pinched face tells me he has the same fear.
“The performance testing went off without a hitch. Now you have to do your part,” Vincent says.
