“I can’t believe this,” Ade said.
“I’m sorry, Ade.” Sylvie paced her kitchen. “She’s home now, and there’s nothing that won’t heal, physically. But emotionally, she’s in a mess.”
“I know all of that. I’ve been supporting her these past few weeks,” Ade said, her voice strained.
“Hey, I didn’t want to tell you on the phone, especially on your birthday. But it happened, and it’s for the best that you know before you come back into work. There’ll be all kinds of risk assessments and reports to write up.”
“Are you angry with me?” Ade asked.
“No.” Sylvie sat down. Her nerves were frayed; she’d spent halfthe night at the hospital, and now she’d clearly upset Ade while she was supposed to be enjoying her birthday weekend. “I’m not angry with you. Why would I be?”
“I did a report. I made a referral before I came away. I did everything I was supposed to.” She cleared her throat of what sounded like a sob. “I should’ve been there.”
Sylvie silently acknowledged Ade’s regret. “Hey, this isn’t on you. Madison is an adult. Albeit a young one. She’s struggling, and you did everything you could have done.” The silence hung between them. “You did everything I would’ve done.”
“Then why are you angry?”
“I’m angry with the world, Ade. It’s tragic that our young people feel so much pressure to exist, to thrive, to be someone they’re not, especially when they call their parents for help, and they don’t come.” Sylvie closed her eyes briefly. “I just wish you were here, so I didn’t have to miscommunicate with you over the phone.”
“I still should’ve been there.”
Sylvie pushed down the frustration at Ade’s lack of experience with students. “You can’t be there for them the whole time. That’s not the job.”
“But what if they need you?”
“You can’t help being away. I was here. There’s always someone else to pick up the slack. That’s the main thing.”
“You don’t think I could have coped?” Ade asked.
Sylvie held the phone away from her ear. “That’s not what I said. When did I say that?”
“You didn’t. It’s just how I feel, I guess.”
Sylvie ached to be with her. To smooth this over and rewrite Ade’s inner monologue. But she had enough on her plate dealing with Madison’s crisis. “Listen, I need to focus on Madison right now. Let’s talk again when you’ve had time to calm down and digest the situation.”
“But I should be there for her instead of being here at this stupid villa in the crazy heat.”
Sylvie paused. “This actually isn’t about you, Ade. It’s about the well-being of one our students.”
Ade hung up. Had Sylvie said too much? It was obviously a shock for Ade to hear the news and be so far away and out of control. She kicked herself for not handling it better; she should’ve waited until Ade was back from her trip. But juggling the emotional crisis of one person had been enough today. Ade would calm down once she had time to process what had happened. But a little part of Sylvie resented always having to be the grown-up.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Ade wasn’tangry with Sylvie; she was furious with herself. Just when she thought she was adding value to her students’ lives, she’d missed the biggest signal of all: one of them needed help. She paced around the perimeter of the courtyard as the sun rose. Her parents and Steph hadn’t yet shown for breakfast, so she had the place to herself for all the ruminating she wanted.
She’d wanted to impress Sylvie and show her she was capable of something other than clearing out animal tanks. She bit her lip. Sylvie was so right; this wasn’t about her. It was about Madison. So why couldn’t she shake the failure from her shoulders?
Her pops strolled out onto the veranda wearing a silk robe. “Happy birthday, angel.”
She ignored him.
“You okay there, Ady-baby?”
“You know, I don’t really care for that nickname.” The label was diminishing, making her smaller than she was, less able than she should be. It certainly wasn’t helping this morning.
Her pops smiled. They replayed this argument every few years, but sooner or later the name would pop up. She’d always be the baby of the family.
“You don’t need to look after me anymore. I’m a grown adult.” She kept pacing.
