A Million Little Things (Mischief Bay, #3)

“But—”

“Medically, there’s nothing else to be done.” Dr. Miller’s tone was firm. “Get him into a playgroup. Have him interact with other children. Once he hears them talking, he may get inspired. If nothing else, you’ll have some other new moms to spend time with. That will help.”

“Is this your polite way of telling me I’m losing it?” Jen asked, not sure if she was more hurt or angry.

“You’re anxious. It’s natural. You love your son and you’re a good mom.”

Jen noticed there was no firm “No” in those few sentences.

She wanted to stand up and start screaming—something that wouldn’t help her cause. But she knew she wasn’t the problem. There was something wrong with her son. Why couldn’t other people see it? Why was she the only one?

“I don’t want him in a playgroup,” she said instead. “There are too many germs and sick kids.”

“He needs to be exposed to a few viruses. Fighting them will strengthen his immune system.”

Or kill him. But Jen didn’t say that.

“Do you have help with day care?” the doctor asked.

“My mom looks after him sometimes. She’s the only one I trust. I’m afraid of what would happen if he was in a day care situation or with a babysitter.”

“Start with a playgroup. See how that goes. And think about finding some outside help with Jack. You need to get out more, Jen. Having a baby is wonderful, but it doesn’t mean you have to give up being you.”

Which all sounded really good, Jen thought bitterly, but wasn’t the least bit helpful.

She collected Jack and walked out of the office, then down the hall to the waiting area. Frustration built inside of her. Why wouldn’t anyone listen? Not that there was an answer. Jack’s own doctor had given up on him. There was nowhere else to turn.

She felt the familiar combination of panic and tears building up inside of her. In a few minutes she wasn’t going to be able to breathe and if she started sobbing, she wouldn’t stop for several minutes. She had to get out of here. To the safety of being alone.

Just then her phone chirped. She checked the screen and saw that her mother had texted, asking if she could stop by later. Relief overrode panic.

Yes. Please do.

Jen drew in a breath. Having her mom around for an hour or so would help, she told herself. Even if Pam didn’t believe there was a problem with Jack, she was a friendly face. She would listen and offer comfort and hugs. Exactly what Jen needed today.

*

“This is not a good idea,” Zoe said, trying not to clutch her stomach and rock. She felt a little light-headed and sick. “Jen is going to be mad.”

“No, she won’t,” Pam said firmly. “She’ll appreciate our support. You agree that she needs to take a step back from her ridiculous helicopter parenting and start being a person again, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, exactly,” Zoe said as she wondered how badly she would get hurt if she jumped out of the moving SUV.

“We agreed this was the right thing to do. We’re being honest.”

Zoe was starting to think honesty was far from the best policy, but before she could say that, they were pulling up in front of Jen’s house.

For a second she thought about simply telling Pam no. That this wasn’t a good idea. At the same time, she wondered if hearing from both of them was exactly what Jen needed. Wouldn’t it be great if she could get her friend back?

Together she and Pam walked to the front door. Jen had her hand-painted, baby-sleeping sign out. Pam knocked softly, then opened the front door and stepped inside.

“We’re here,” she called softly.

“Who’s we?” Jen asked as she stepped out of the kitchen. She spotted Zoe and looked confused. “Oh, hi. Did I know you were coming by today, too?”

“Not exactly,” Zoe admitted. Before she could say anything else, Pam took charge.

“Zoe and I want to talk to you.”

Jen’s expression turned wary. “Why is there a Zoe and you to begin with? What’s going on?”

They were not getting off to a good start, Zoe thought anxiously. If this went badly, Pam would still be Jen’s mother. That couldn’t be changed. But friendship was much more fragile than a family bond.

“We’ve been talking,” Pam said. “Let’s go into the family room.”

Jen looked like she was going to bolt. Zoe understood the reaction completely. Not only wasn’t this going to go well, but she could tell that Pam was going to do all the talking. Which was probably for the best—Pam knew her daughter. But it also left Zoe agreeing through silence. Which meant being blamed for everything, too. She was going to have to speak up and soon.

“We love you, Jen,” she said as soon as they were seated. “You’re my best friend and you mean everything to me.”

Jen didn’t look reassured. “Then what is this about?”

“You’re obsessed with Jack,” Pam said bluntly. “You have too many rules. You’re smothering him with your attentiveness. I get that you want to be a good mother, but you’ve gone way too far with it. It’s one thing to have a schedule, but this household is run with NASA-like precision. Kids are tough, Jen. Lighten up.”

Zoe held in a groan. That was not the right approach to take, she thought, searching for a way to mitigate what had just been said.

“Lighten up?” Jen asked, her voice low and controlled. “Lighten up? What exactly is your complaint? That I care too much? That I worry? What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t? You worried plenty, but I suppose that’s okay?” Her voice rose. “My son won’t talk. That’s not normal. But all you can see is I worry too much? I’m his mother. I know him better than anyone. I’m with him every second of every day.”

“That’s the problem,” Pam told her. “You need to get out and have a life of your own. You can’t be defined by your children. You’re constantly worrying about what might never happen, which means you don’t get to enjoy all the good stuff right in front of you.”