I push into the waiting area and stop at Marcie’s desk. Robyn notified us through a group email this morning that she wouldn’t be in. Her roommate had a traumatic experience with a spider, and she was comforting her.
“May I put you on hold for a quick sec?” Marcie presses the button and places the phone on her shoulder. “How many ways can you say I’m not entitled to give you that information?” She huffs but then smiles.
“I have to go. Ollie is sick.”
Her mouth turns down. “I’ll let Griffin know when he gets back. I hope he feels better.”
Fifteen minutes later, I find my little guy curled up in a chair in the office. I squat down and run my hand over his warm head.
“Mama.”
“Hey, buddy. You ready to go home?”
He nods, and I pick him up.
“Thank you for calling me,” I say to the assistant.
“We hope you feel better, Oliver,” she says as we exit the office.
I carry him through the building and almost reach the door.
“Mrs. Atwater.”
I turn, adjusting Ollie’s weight, and his teacher smiles.
“I was hoping to catch you. I provided Helen with information about speech therapy, but I wanted to ensure that you received it as well. Oliver is doing great, but you may consider getting a jump start on those speech issues.” Her head weighs from side to side. “Kids are kids, and it won’t get easier for him.”
I try to smile, but I can’t. “Thank you. I’m. . .looking into it.”
She nods once, running a hand over Ollie’s back. “Feel better, Oliver. We’ll see you soon.”
I turn, ready to get him home.
______
Ollie’s feverish head rests on my thigh, and I have no doubt a large pool of drool has soaked through my leggings. I peek down and pull a Kleenex from the box, folding it to wipe the line of snot pouring from his nose. I toss it in the makeshift trash and carefully scoot down into the couch a little further.
Frankie is sound asleep on my chest as I watch Bluey and Bingo play a game called Elevator. Helen had offered to stay so I could go back to work, but Ollie cried, and the decision was made.
I rest my head against the couch, closing my eyes.
My phone buzzes, and my eyes pop open. I glance around, trying to remember where I am. It vibrates against my leg, and I shift Frankie to glance at it.
Roxie.
I swipe to answer. “Hang on sec,” I whisper, slipping my feet out from under Grover.
I ease Ollie’s head off my leg and carry Frankie to her bed, hurrying back for my phone.
“Hey, I’m so glad you called.”
“Why were you whispering?”
“Ollie’s sick, and Frankie fell asleep on me.”
“Oh, that’s no good.” She pauses while I load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “I was going to call yesterday, but I had to go to work early.” There’s a brief pause. “Sarah, I’m sorry.”
I adjust the phone between my ear and shoulder and push Grover away from licking the dishes. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have—”
