Chapter 32
Charlotte
I stare at the number on my screen, counting from where the decimal point is again just to be sure.
“One hundred two thousand, seven hundred fifty dollars,” I say aloud.
Shock pulses through me once again and I reach my phone to text Taysom.
It’s only appropriate that he be the first one I tell, right?
He was the one who made it all possible.
He shared it with those in his circles. He gave me the courage necessary to get real in the video from last night.
Not that I really remember what I said. It was all so…vulnerable and unscripted. I do know I didn’t cry, which was a huge win. Not that there’s anything wrong with crying on screen for some things, but I wanted to remain as professional as possible, even as I bared my soul.
I text Willa:
“OMG is this real life? LOOK,” with a link to the fundraiser. I decide against texting Taysom because it’s barely 7:00 AM and he likes to sleep in during the off-season.
I’ve learned a lot about Taysom these past few weeks, like that there’s much more than meets the eye.
He’s not just a famous athlete, he’s also silly when Miley licks his arm and he is the absolute best cheerleader a girl could ask for.
He’s kind and interesting, and I feel like I can be myself with him. He even loves my hair.
Like, really, truly loves my hair.
A shiver goes through me. I don’t know what to call us, and we still haven’t discussed the future.
But when he finally left last night, we parted with a kiss and it was as if time stopped altogether.
Sure, I was in a daze because it was 1:00 AM and I’m not used to staying up late.
But he’d spent his whole evening helping me, entertaining Miley, creating the fundraiser, and giving me ideas on what to say in the video.
It was incredible. And now, just ten short hours since the fundraiser went live, we have over a hundred thousand dollars for the Early Childhood Center.
I jump out of bed, get ready as fast as I can, and head over to work. It’s my last day. I only have two clients scheduled, which is just as well since a bunch of our stuff has already been packed up. I have what I need for these kids today and then…that’s it, right?
Tracy and Ron have already moved most of their things over to their new offices in the College of Health and Human Performance building. All my former coworkers are gone, already starting, or about to start, their new jobs. Willa told me yesterday that she likes her new position.
I’m happy for all of them. But there’s this undercurrent of hope inside of me that can’t help but wonder if something can be done now that there’s all this money just sitting here, waiting to be used.
On my drive to work, Willa calls. Her scream when I answer makes me jump.
“Know any good ear, nose, and throat doctors?” I manage, twisting my finger in my ear to get the ringing to stop. “I’m gonna need some ear treatment now.”
“Sorry,” she says, only slightly quieter. “You have single handedly saved the center!”
“Whoa. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Willa.”
“That’s some serious change you’ve brought in, so it’s bound to make a difference somehow.”
“I hope so, but I really don’t know what’s going to happen.” MJ’s olive eyes and soft-as-a-cloud light brown hair drift into my consciousness. A pang reverberates out along my limbs.
“Well, I’m just honored to be best friends with a freaking rockstar,” Willa says.
“If we’d done the fundraiser sooner, though, maybe we all could have kept our jobs. If by some chance this money can go towards reopening the center, will you come back, please?”
There’s a pause on the other end. “I told you. I like my new job.”
“And I’m glad,” I say. “But also, ouch.”
“I miss you! I miss everybody, especially the kids. But this one is a new challenge for me.”
I get it. And I’m trying not to feel sad about it, too. When I walk through the front door, Tracy’s there at reception wiping off the front desk with a big, damp towel.
“Charlotte!” she cries, setting down the towel and running to me. She crushes me in a hug. As much as my work family has felt like a real family to me, we haven’t hugged much to maintain professionalism. But now, we won’t be coworkers anymore.
“Hey, Tracy,” I say. “I can’t believe this day is here.”
She tsks and then smiles brightly. “And I can’t believe you created that fundraiser! There are so many dollar bills at our disposal now. Thank you so much.” Her eyes shine with tears.
“It was just a last-ditch effort that turned out, I guess.”
“Turned out? We’re all floored at the amount of money. And there were some famous people, athletes and others, who made some big donations! Did you see the biggest one? The one for fifty grand? That one’s anonymous, but I’m guessing I know who it is.” She winks and my cheeks flood with heat.
Taysom. It’s got to be him, right? He donated nearly half of what we’ve gotten so far.
I just shake my head and avoid acknowledging anything. I know people have surmised online that we’re together—that we’re dating. And maybe they’re right. At least for now, we’ll just go along with whatever this is.
But my heart burns as Taysom comes to the front of my mind. He’s suddenly become so much to me. I ache to see him even now. It’s nearly 8:00—can I text him yet?
I hold back, though. There’s so much to say. So much to express, that I hardly even know how to thank him. And I’d really like to thank him in person.
I get to work, finishing unloading my desk, three years of odds and ends that have crept up, accumulated, and filled in all the spaces.
Finally, at 9:00, I text Taysom, asking him to look at the fundraiser total and to pat himself on the back. Except, I’m pretty sure that fifty grand was from him, so he probably already knows. Looks like he made the donation right as he got home last night.
Do I thank him for the more-than-generous gift? Do I pretend I don’t know it’s him? What’s the protocol for secret donations to save the center I adore?
I plan to thank him with my lips as soon as I see him, but as time wears on and I load my things on a dolly, I still don’t hear back from him.
Ron comes out of his office. He just got his casts off, so his arms are almost as white as mine under his short-sleeved, green button down.
“Hello, Charlotte. Can I see you in my office, please?”
Tracy squeezes my arm and returns to polishing the front desk. Leave things better than you found them, eh? Maybe it’s a point of pride for her after all these years.
I enter Ron’s office and the only thing that’s in there is his desk, which I’ve always thought was probably bolted to the floor back in the 1980s.
“Sorry there’s not even a chair to sit on. Go on and pull up a desk, why don’t ya?” He gestures to the desk and then leans against the wall behind it.
I smile and slide onto the desk. It feels wrong, though. Like I’m disrespecting it.
“The fundraiser was an unexpected surprise.” He attempts to smile, but I know the guy and there’s something off here.
“Yes, well, unexpected for me, too. I only officially decided to do it yesterday.”
“It was great of you to do that.” His head cocks to the side. “You’d mentioned the possibility of doing it before, but I didn’t take it seriously. And I didn’t know you were going to have Taysom Reed involved!”
I only nod. I want to scream. Does this mean the center can stay open?
“I should have talked to my superiors beforehand,” Ron says. “This is on me, since you did mention it before.”
“Oh.” I ball my hands into fists.
“It’s not your fault. I’m the one who dropped the ball. I’ve been on the phone with people from the College of Health and Human Performances all morning. And the advancement office, too. You’d think everyone would be more excited about this than they are.”
My heart skips a beat. “Am I in trouble?”
“No, not in trouble. We’re just not sure what to do with it. Typically, the university uses their own fundraising channels if they even resort to those measures in the first place. It’s highly unusual.”
“So do we have to give the money back?”
Ron smiles. “Do you think the university is going to turn down a sum like that? Of course we’re not giving it back. But using a commercial fundraising site has posed some challenges.”
“I’m sorry.”
He waves his hand away. “I think we’ve come up with a workaround.
Basically, the advancement office is creating an official landing page that’s associated with the university’s website.
All you have to do is link the fundraiser to that page and then the funds can go directly into an account for the Early Childhood Center. ”
“Except, the center doesn’t exist anymore.”
“It’s still an entity in and of itself. This building might not exist much longer, but the center still does, if only in theory for the time being. And with this new influx of funds, we have some options.”
“Which are?”
His lips quirk to one side. “Well, there’s an office on the same floor as my new office across campus. It’s still accessible to a parking lot in which patrons from the city can park and enter. It was proposed that we take this money and create a scaled-down version of what we’ve done here.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Not on the same scope. Not with the same resources, but it looks like the center might not be gone after all.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. “Really?” I say again. “That’s amazing to hear. We’d better let the others know in case they can come back.”
“Charlotte, we’ll only be having one O.T. working in this new capacity. I can only hire one of you back.”
A buzzing ball forms in my throat. “Well, of course, it should be Willa,” I say, my voice strained. “She’s been here the longest.”
Ron hesitates. “She’s pretty excited about her position in Eastside.”
“Well, then Skyler. He said he’s not so sure about his new job at the hospital.” Frankly, I wouldn’t be either. The hours are pretty bad, and there are a lot of politics over there.
“You really want to give the one position to someone just because he might not like his new job? That doesn’t seem like the best reason.”
“He wanted to stay, though. We all wanted to stay.”
Ron’s voice is gentle. “Charlotte, Skyler is fine. He didn’t necessarily want to stay. But you do.”
I hesitate. “I can’t just say, ‘give me the job, Ron.’”
“Why not?” Ron’s eyes flinch and the challenge in his voice is unmistakable.
“Because that’s unbecoming…it’s selfish.”
“Charlotte, you got this money. You single-handedly got this position back. You.”
“But, I can’t be selfish.”
Ron just stares at me, his jaw hard. I remember Taysom’s similar expression last night, when I told him it was too late…there was nothing we could do to save the center. It spurred me on. It made me want to fight. And boy, did we fight! I raise my chin. “It’s not selfish of me to want this job.”
He sputters, a smile crossing his lips. “But you just said it was.”
I sigh and roll my eyes. “Are you playing devil’s advocate?”
He just gives a slight shake of his head.
I can’t actually tell him I want this position, can I? I mean, it’s obvious, right? And he’d offer it to me if he thought I’d do a decent job.
No. I know I’d do a decent job. I’d do a decent job in my sleep. But I’m not going to be asleep, even though the job exhausts me like nothing else.
I’m a good O.T. A very good one. I care about these kids and their futures. I’m not going to give up on them.
I want this job. Not because I deserve it. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. But because I just…I just want it.
I decided that day in my kitchen, when I discovered that Penny had run away, that I didn’t get to have something just because I wanted it. I’d wanted to play a game of football. I’d wanted to flirt, to become a new person. I didn’t like who I was before, so I wanted to be new.
I had no idea there would be harsh consequences for focusing on myself.
But, the thing is, taking care of me…loving me…is often the only thing I really can control. And I’m ready to start.