Why did Grady’s death spread to every aspect of my life? Why couldn’t some things remain untouched by grief?
By the time I slammed on the brakes and shut the engine off in front of the elementary school, my two little ones had stopped sniffling and fighting their seatbelts. Two actual seconds of blissful silence passed before Lucy started fighting her restraints and Jace began crying again.
The end of school coincided with the end of his nap. The temper tantrum was something I was used to, but that didn’t make it any easier.
I grabbed my purse, stuffed with diapers and wipes, double-checked that I put my keys and phone in there, then wrestled Jace from his seat. I got Lucy out next, with one hand while Jace sobbed loudly onto my blouse.
It was black, which hopefully hid the wetness, but could never disguise the snot I knew he left behind.
The door closed with excruciating slowness. I locked the van with the push of my thumb and hauled the children with me into the school building.
School would get out in ten minutes. The counselor had wanted thirty minutes with me, but she would have to settle for seven. I felt near tears by the time I shoved the office door open and stepped inside the frigid place.
The line of secretaries looked up at me with knowing, sympathetic smiles. I avoided the pity in their eyes and shuffled to the desk.
“I have a meeting with Ms. Conway,” I told them.
The closest secretary slid the sign-in sheet toward me and handed over a pen. “She’s waiting for you. You can go right in.”
I finished filling in the necessary information and turned to the appropriate door. I tugged Lucy along with me and readjusted Jace in my arms. I flashed an apologetic smile at Ms. Conway and hoped I could charm her out of thinking I was the worst single parent alive.
No luck.
“Hi, Liz, how are you?”
“Fine.” I grabbed the back of Lucy’s collar before she could make a bee-line for the breakable animal figurines lining Conway’s desk. Harriet Conway was ten years older than me and had been single her entire life. I hadn’t heard of a man that had ever been able to pass her impossible standards for more than the first date. She had intimidated me before, but now, now that I was a useless parent, drowning in a sea of impossible expectations, she terrified me.
I often gave myself the I’m-a-grownup-too speech. The one where I tried to convince myself that I was her equal in all things and that she had no authority over me, only my children. I swore to myself there was no need to fear her because honestly, what could she do to me?
But every time I stood in front of her, I felt myself shrink back and cower. I couldn’t help it. Maybe if I’d felt like I was doing something right, or could get the kids to school just once on time, I’d have felt like I could stand on my own two feet. But that wasn’t the case.
Instead, she seemed to reflect all my failures back at me and demand more of me as a parent than I knew I could give.
“Have a seat.” She gestured to the dated orange chairs in front of her desk and I obliged. I set Lucy up and reminded her to be quiet and then I made a sniffling Jace comfortable on my lap.
She waited patiently for us to get situated. “Sorry we’re late,” I told her.
She gave me a tight smile. “That’s one of the reasons I called you in today. I know that it’s hard for you now, but Abby and Blake have been late more times than they’ve been on time this year. We’re not even through the first quarter, Liz. I’ve tried to give your family grace while you adjust to your new situation, but I can’t let this go on without speaking up. Both Blake and Abby are the ones suffering from their tardiness. They rush into class and disturb the teaching already in progress and its encouraging bad habits. I know you are going through a rough time right now, but I think finding some consistent routine would be good for all of you.”
I swallowed back tears, mild rage and a whole lot of indignity. My new situation? A rough time? This woman had no idea. She had no idea what it was like to lose the love of her life, let alone manage to get herself and four kids ready and out the door at a reasonable time.
If I didn’t think my kids would never learn to read, I would have withdrawn them today and homeschooled them. Then we’d never have to get out of our pjs.
Except her words weren’t just infuriating and hurtful, they were also true. They were like daggers in all my weak places. And they screamed arguments alongside everything I already knew.
“We’re trying.” I hated the tremble in my voice. I hated falling back on this again. My grief and our loss didn’t mean anything to her and I honestly couldn’t expect them to. “We’re working very hard to find our rhythm; it’s just been hard.”
Her face softened with compassion. “I understand that. But I can’t continue to turn a blind eye. The kids need to be here on time.”
I nodded. “Alright. We’ll try harder.”
She offered me another strained smile. I didn’t think she believed me.
The explosion of children’s voices reached us through the open office door. I let out a slow sigh of relief. School was out; this meeting had to be over now.
Ms. Conway glanced at her door and back at me. “There’s something else.”
I gulped.
“Yes?”
“Abby has been acting up again.”
The words hit me hard. I couldn’t even respond to them. Frustrated tears welled in my bottom lashes and I willed myself not to break down in front of this lady. I could hold it together. I could hold it together for just five more minutes.
“She’s been very talkative,” Conway went on after it was obvious I wasn’t going to speak up. “She’s been caught bullying some of the boys on the playground at recess. And we suspect that she’s stealing erasers.”
“Erasers?” My surprise gave me the ability to speak through my emotion.