His eyebrow goes up. “You’re threatening me again? Seriously?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not threatening you. I’m just telling you that by law, you have to tell the truth about my work here. And the whole time that I was here, not once did you ever say anything negative about me or my work product. Not to me or to anyone else that I’m aware of. All of my evaluations have received top marks. You can’t change history; it is what it is. So, if somebody calls you and asks you about my performance here, you’d better tell the truth. That’s all I’m saying.”
He doesn’t say anything in response; he just acts busy. I could force him to acknowledge what I’ve said, but I’m not going to push it. I think I made out really well here, and I don’t want to tempt fate into reminding me I’m just a mere mortal.
I start to leave, but hesitate in the doorway. I don’t want to walk away with this dark cloud hanging over my head. My life is changing in fundamental ways right now, and that means I need to design this new life of mine intelligently, with light and not shadows.
I turn around to look at my old boss. “Frank, thank you for giving me the opportunity to work here with you and your team. I learned a lot. I met a lot of cool people, and I enjoyed working for you.”
He doesn’t say anything. He completely ignores me, as if I’m not even standing there. I shrug and walk away with a heavy heart.
Nobody ever said doing the right thing was going to be easy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I pick Sammy up from daycare on the way home from my meeting with Frank. Normally the little punk doesn’t want to come with me when I arrive because he’s having too much fun with his friends, but this time when I get there, I find him sitting in a chair in the director’s office waiting for me. My heart sinks when I notice that his eyes are red-rimmed; he’s been crying hard. I guess it’s time to clean this closet out, too.
“Hello, Sharon,” I say, trying not to sound as stressed as I feel. “What’s going on? Why is Sammy in here with you?”
Sharon, the director, stands and motions for me to shut the door. “Sorry, I tried to call you, but I wasn’t able to get through.”
I fish my phone out of my purse and see that I have several missed calls. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I was so distracted taking care of some things, I didn’t even notice my phone was buzzing.” Mom of the Year strikes again!
I drop my purse to the floor and crouch down with my arms open, looking at my son with pity in my eyes. “Come see Mama, baby.”
Sammy jumps off the chair and runs over, throwing himself into my embrace. He doesn’t say anything; he simply cries.
I stand on unsteady feet and practically collapse into the chair in front of Sharon’s desk, my purse somehow getting tangled in my feet. Sammy is clinging to me like a monkey, and all I can do is look over his shoulder at her with questions in my eyes.
Sharon sits down in her seat with her hands folded, placing them in front of her on the desktop. “We’ve been having a little bit of trouble recently, and Sammy was in my office so that we could discuss it. After talking to him, I decided it was probably a good idea that you and I have a little conference.”
Oh, boy. Here it comes. If she tells me that Sammy can’t come to the daycare anymore, I’m going to lose my mind. It’s one thing to freelance from home, but it’s a whole other thing to try to work and watch Sammy at the same time. It just can’t happen. I’m only one person, not three.
“I knew something was going on here, because Sammy has been telling me he has stomachaches before school every day. And you know how much he loves it here . . . or used to love it here. I don’t think he’s very happy anymore.” I try to detach Sammy from my neck so I can look into his face, but the harder I try, the more he clings to me. He’s obviously not ready to talk about it, so I let him wallow in his misery as I continue with the director.
She nods. “Sammy has been having some difficulties with a couple of other children. These are kids who he used to get along with, but for some reason, there’s a conflict now. I don’t know that anyone is at fault, per se, but certainly there’s some behavior on both sides that I don’t condone. It’s not something we can have here at Sunnyside Daycare.”
I’m trying not to get defensive, but it’s hard. She’s giving me the distinct impression that she believes Sammy to be a troublemaker. And while I know he’s very high-energy and he likes to tease, my baby doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. He’s usually the one at the bottom of the heap when there’s a pile-on.
“Do you know what’s going on?” I ask. “Do you have details?”