Chapter Four
Amara
“H ello, this is Amara. The one who peed on your couch. Did you ever get a chance to get it cleaned? I’m still waiting for the bill. And, sorry, again. You know… for… uhm… well, peeing on your couch. Oh, I don’t think I paid for my drinks, either. Man, you probably hate me. Or you most likely don’t even remember who I am and plan to put out a restraining order on the rando who texted you. Sorry. Okay, bye.”
I’m mortified as I read back the message that I’ve already sent. Why can’t texts have an edit button?
“Morning, babe.”
“Oh, I’m the one with the dog. You know, big girl, golden dog, peed on your couch? Oh, and you took me home and met my ex and daughter. Sorry if you thought I was someone else.”
Why else would he say babe? Not that I blame all the women for flocking at his feet, though. He’s very sexy. Way out of my league, but I’m not blind.
“I know who you are, Snow. Bout to go into a club meeting. Talk in a bit.”
Oh. Well, alrighty then. He does remember me. I mean, it’s only been three days, but I’m sure he’s been super busy, which explains why he hasn’t gotten his couch cleaned yet. I might call some companies today so that he doesn’t have to worry about it.
Or is that too much?
Shaking my head, I sit down at my office desk to work. While I can’t hold a physical job, I most certainly can handle editing books for authors. It’s not stressful, and I can get lost in so many different worlds every single day.
Best. Job. Ever.
I start working, and the next thing I know, Sky is at my feet with my medication bottle in his mouth.
“Good boy,” I praise, switching out my bottle for an ever-present treat.
Sky wears a vibrating collar around his neck and every time it goes off, he’s trained to bring me my meds. I had a pretty severe seizure years back that caused issues with my memory.
Actually, it’s the exact seizure that was responsible for Zoe’s hearing loss. I had a fever of one hundred and three at the time of labor. It happened while I was pushing. Zoe’s head was outside of my body, but her shoulders were stuck. I don’t know if it was the pain, the fever, or a mixture of everything, but my body decided to just quit.
The doctors and nurses had to hold me down to prevent my flailing body from hurting my baby, as the most intense and brutal seizure that I’ve ever had overtook me.
Regardless of them holding me down as well as securing the only part of the baby they could, Zoe’s head was still bouncing around way more than it should.
The seizure lasted for a little over three minutes. Zoe’s oxygen supply wasn’t cut off completely, but it was hindered, which resulted in Hypoxia. Oxygen deprivation.
The hypoxia, mixed with the birth trauma, caused her auditory system to fail. It didn’t happen instantly, but she was complexly deaf by the time she turned one.
So, he wasn’t wrong when my ex said that it was my fault that Zoe is the way she is.
Seeing that I’ve been working for three hours, I call it quits until later.
“What do you think about us walking to get Zoe from school today?” I ask Sky. “I don’t think I want to deal with another taxi driver complaining because they don’t like it when dogs stink up their cab. I have news for those fools; half the humans they haul around smell a lot worse than a dog.”
Sky snuffs his agreement.
We still have a few hours before we have to leave, so after I feed Sky, I clean up the house and eat lunch.
The walk to the school was pretty uneventful. There was a shop I wanted to explore that sold antiques, but the owner was adamant about not letting Sky inside. I guess I can understand, to a point. They didn’t want him to destroy anything, but he wouldn’t have.
I was half-tempted to have Sky stay outside by the door while I went in for a few minutes, but it’s been several days since I’ve had a seizure, which means I’m due for a pretty intense one soon, and I didn’t want to take that risk.
I just wish people were more educated about service animals.
“Good evening, Mr. Brown,” I greet Amara’s teacher. “How was Zoe today?”
“Ms. Clarke,” he smiles. “She was perfect, as always. However, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Everything is fine, but Zoe’s other teachers and I think it might be best if we move her to a special needs classroom.”
“Special needs?” I ask. “Why? I mean, I’m not against that class itself, but Zoe’s grades are top-notch. She doesn’t need the help.”
“It’s not about her grades, Ms. Clarke,” he says gently. “Zoe has a hard time following along in class. I have to step aside to give her step-by-step instructions on paper so that she understands.”
“Yeah, because she’s deaf,” I say heatedly. “Hire an interpreter.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not in the budget. Zoe is a wonderful girl, but I have to spend too much time helping her hear the lessons that we don’t have time for snack at the end of class.”
“You mean to tell me that you want to hinder my daughter’s education because you don’t have time to eat a snack?” I ask, my blood boiling.
“Her education won’t be hindered,” he rushes to say. “Our special needs teacher is wonderful. She will be able to give Zoe the attention she needs to get through the lessons.”
“I’m sure she is,” I grit. “That’s not the point. My daughter does not need to be in a special needs class. What she needs is accommodation, not segregation. She needs an inclusive learning environment where her needs are met without compromising her academic potential. If you’re unable to provide the necessary support, I’ll explore other options, but moving her to a special needs classroom is not one of them.”
“It’s out of my hands,” he says. “There are no other options. She started today. If you’ll follow me, I will introduce you to her teacher.”
“What do you mean she started today?” I seethe, my anger simmering beneath the surface.
“You’ve made this decision without even consulting me? Without giving me a chance to discuss it with my daughter? This is unacceptable.”
“I understand your frustration, Ms. Clarke,” the teacher responds, maintaining a calm demeanor. “But please believe me when I say this decision was not made lightly. We want what’s best for Zoe, and sometimes that means making difficult choices. Our special needs program is designed to support students like her in reaching their full potential. I’m here to help facilitate a smooth transition for Zoe and address any concerns you may have along the way.”
I’m stunned silent as he knocks on a door. My vision is a haze of red, and I don’t even notice when the door opens.
“Ms. Clarke, this is Ms. Burton, our special needs teacher.”
I have never in my life wanted to throat-punch someone as strongly as I do right now.
“Snow?” someone says. “I mean, Amara? What are you doing here?”
When willpower doesn’t seem to work when it comes to murdering someone, I look away from the man and towards the new teacher.
“Oh,” I say. “Uhm. Maddy, right? Your kids go here, too?”
I know that was a stupid question, considering it’s the only school in Harborbrook.
“Actually, I’m a teacher,” she smiles. “I teach the special needs class.”
“Oh,” I repeat. “That’s pretty cool. But my daughter doesn’t need to be in a special needs class.”
“Zoe’s mom?” she smiles. “She’s so lovely. Such a sweet girl.”
“Thanks.”
“Come on in and have a seat, Amara. Thank you, Mr. Brown.”
I look around and groan.
“I know,” Maddy laughs. “These chairs are not meant for big ladies like us. But they’ll hold. I sit in them every day.”
Taking her word for it, I pull out a tiny chair and have a seat.
“I’m conflicted,” I admit, petting Sky as he settles at my feet.
“I understand,” she says. “And to be frank, I agree with you. Zoe does not need to be in a special needs class. Especially one that caters to all elementary grades. I am equipped to teach her the lessons from her grade, but she won’t be challenged in here.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I sigh. “I could pull her out and see about enrolling her into a private school, but I just don’t think I’ll be able to afford that.”
“I argued with the board about moving her here,” she admits. “I was dead set against it because, as you know, she doesn’t need the extra help that I’m trained to give. What she needs is an interpreter.”
“Mr. Brown says that it’s not an option,” I tell her.
“No, because our school is too busy shoving that budget into the football team’s needs,” she seethes. “I used to love working here, but this past year, we’ve had new members in control, and apparently, their priorities revolve around sports and not education. I swear, if it weren’t for these kids, I wouldn’t come back next year.”
“That bad?”
“And then some. But that’s neither here nor there. Let’s figure this thing out about Zoe.”
“Isn’t it the law that a school has to have an ASL interpreter if they’re needed?”
“At no cost to the family,” she confirms. “However, the resources we have available for this school district are next to none. We receive most of our funds from donations alone. Because of that, the board decides when things are needed. Which is why we only have one special needs teacher when a school of our size needs at least three.”
“This is insane.”
“What I don’t understand is why it’s suddenly become an issue,” she frowns. “I’ve looked back at your daughter’s reports, and she has exceeded at everything they’ve given her. We’re only three months into this school year, and her grades are all A’s.”
“Mr. Brown said it was because he had to spend too much time helping her to hear his lessons that he didn’t have enough time at the end of his class for snack time.”
I laugh when her eyes widen.
“Yeah, my thoughts exactly.”
“Well, listen,” she smiles. “I don’t want you to worry about it right now. I have an aide who helps here, and we’ll make sure that Zoe is challenged and doesn’t fall behind. I’m calling another meeting with the school board. We’re going to fight this.”
“I really appreciate it,” I say, standing.
“Let’s go get that girl of yours,” Maddy says. “She’s in the band room.”
“Most likely with her shoes off,” I smile.
I follow Maddy until we reach the band room, where older kids are playing their instruments. Lo and behold, Zoe stands off to the side with her hands on the wall and no shoes.
“She’s listening to the music,” I explain. “She’s feeling the beat with her feet and hands as the sound vibrates off the floor and walls.”
“That really is amazing,” she says.
I watch as Zoe closes her eyes and lifts her head, almost as if she can actually hear the music. Her face is relaxed with a small smile, and I can’t help but love her even more.
As soon as the band finished their last note, Zoe opened her eyes and clapped, causing the rest of the class to laugh and sign, thank you.
“I see she’s been teaching,” I laugh.
“She spent our entire recess time teaching me the alphabet,” Maddy smiles. “It’s actually pretty simple if you think about it.”
“It really is,” I agree, catching my daughter’s eyes and telling her it’s time to go. “People just don’t take the time to stop and learn.”
Sky nudges my leg in warning, and I blindly hand him a treat. I really need to get home before this seizure hits.
“Is everything okay?” Maddy asks as I close the treat bag I always carry.
“Yeah,” I answer. “It’s just a warning. But I really need to get home in case something happens.”
“Does this happen a lot?” she asks.
“Almost daily,” I admit, smiling at Zoe.
“You ready to go home?” I sign and say at the same time.
“Sky alerted you, mommy,” she signs back. “Should we wait?”
“I’ve already called for a taxi, sweetheart,” I tell her. “It’s out front. I should be fine until we get home.”
“Do you always talk out loud when signing to her?” Maddy asks.
“It helps her learn to associate the sign with the movement of my lips,” I explain. “She can read lips pretty well right now, but only if you’re talking directly at her and slowly.”
“I’ll remember that. Well, I’ll keep you updated with the board meeting. Don’t worry, Amara, we’ll make sure your daughter is well taken care of.”
Saying our goodbyes, I follow Zoe as she leads me through the school and out the front door. I have no doubt that Maddy will try and get Zoe back into her regular class. That’s not the reason for my anger. It’s the fact that this is even an issue to begin with.
My body is starting to feel a bit off by the time we get home. Luckily, I make it to my couch before Sky jumps on me, forcing me to lie down.
“You know what to do, sweetheart?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
With her determined nod, all I can do is wait for the inevitable.
I hate that my nine-year-old has to fend for herself during these dang seizures. She can’t even call 911 with the information they need if something bad were to happen. Of course, she knows that she’s supposed to use the emergency app that connects her with an interpreter, but it hurts my heart that she might be the one to find me dead one morning.
“If you get hungry, warm up some spaghetti from yesterday. Put it in the microwave and push one.” I tell her, my hands moving slowly. “Don’t touch the stove, Amara. And do not answer the door.”
“I know the rules, Mommy,” she replies with a sigh.
Little brat.
Sky is whining, and I release a sigh of my own. The last thing I see is the worried eyes of my little girl.