Chapter Six
Mindy
Rush-hour traffic in New York is the definition of insanity.
The line of cars in front of me just won’t end. But then again, this is not the first time I go through this ordeal. I do it five times a week. It's 5 PM on a weekday, which is the craziest time to be in New York traffic. Tens of thousands of people are trying to get home from work and I am one of them.
I know I’m going to be late again. In my mind’s eye, I can vividly picture Sharon sitting alone on one of the benches outside her school, waiting for me. She is almost always the last one to be picked up.
After concluding a meeting with Christine earlier today, I noticed my phone lighting up with missed calls and two voicemails. Then, just as I was about to wrap up for the day, Albert walked in and approached my desk with that slick smile of his.
"Miss Williams, thank God you’re here,” he’d said. “I’ve been reviewing the quarterly projections and I have some ideas. Can we discuss them this week? Perhaps over dinner?"
I caught onto his subtle hint, of course. But instead of reciprocating his flirtatious tone, I maintained a professional demeanor. "Unfortunately, I’m swamped with end-of-quarter tasks, Mr. Solomon. Maybe we could schedule a meeting at the office instead?"
Then, Christine popped her head into my office and saved me from the uncomfortable situation. "Albert, will you please let Ms. Williams finish up? She still needs to pick up her daughter from school."
"Of course, dear," Albert replied, his eyes lingering on me for a little too long.
As they both exited my space, I wondered if Christine picked up on the underlying tension between her husband and me. She probably did. Either way, the awkward change in the atmosphere whenever Albert Solomon is around is starting to weigh on me. But at the end of the day, I just have to continue doing my best to brush off his inappropriate remarks and keep my mouth shut. I can’t afford to lose this job.
Once I had completed the last task of the day, I left the office as quickly as I possible, so that I could listen to the two voicemails in my car.
"Miss Williams, it’s Clarissa Evans from Willow Heights Elementary School. I’m sorry to disturb you, but Sharon’s been having a tough day. We had to separate her from the rest of the class for safety reasons. Please call me back when you can."
I just sat there in shock, with the phone pressed against my ear. Sharon was separated from her classmates? What does that mean exactly? The first image that came to mind was of my daughter being isolated in a plain room, strapped into a straitjacket, sobbing for her mother.
"I’m being overly dramatic," I’d scolded myself. "It’s an elementary school, not an insane asylum." Then I’d listened to the second message.
" Miss Williams, it’s Clarissa Evans again. We think it would be best if you could pick up Sharon early today. She is having a really rough time. She had several conflicts with her classmates and has stopped communicating with anyone."
That’s when I started to panic. I glanced at the timestamps, and it hit me: both voicemails were sent over two hours ago. I don’t even want to think about what Sharon must have gone through since then. But between endless calls, Excel sheets, and unpleasant visits from Albert Solomon, I had zero chance to listen to the messages earlier. I couldn’t even look at my phone, let alone respond.
Guilt swells inside me, but I push it down. All that matters is that I’m on my way to Sharon now. I just need to get out of traffic, pick her up, take her home, and talk things through.
"Come on, move already!" I mutter under my breath, banging my hand against the steering wheel in frustration. I don’t get it; how do other parents make this work without losing their minds? What if Sharon thinks I’ve forgotten her? What if she’s crying, feeling abandoned by her own mother?
She’s been struggling ever since she started at this new school, a few weeks ago. She’s not like other kids; she needs more time to adjust and make friends… she’s always been clingy toward me; more than most children are.
As I watch the sea of brake lights ahead of me, my mind drifts to my own childhood. I was like Sharon once - shy, clingy, struggling to connect with others. But I had a built-in best friend and soulmate. My twin sister, Emily. We grew up in our own little bubble, inseparable and content, like most twins do.
I wish you were here, Em. Maybe you would also have a kid or more. We could have them play together, love on each other, and learn social skills from each other. We would be one big happy family. They wouldn’t be so alone, like Sharon is…
"Get it together, girl," I snap at myself. "These thoughts are only making you feel like shit!" It’s true. It is pointless to dwell on the past. It only brings with it a ton of pain and that is not helping right now. Or ever. Sharon needs a stable mother who is present with her.
I grab a tissue from the glovebox and quickly wipe away the stray tear that escaped the corner of my eye.
By the time I finally pull into the school parking lot, it’s nearly empty. I jump out of the car and race up the stairs as quickly as I can, then march down the long, empty corridor to where Sharon is waiting by herself. My baby girl sits on a chair that is clearly too big for her tiny body - her little legs dangle off the edge as she kicks the air impatiently. When she sees me, she jumps off the chair and runs toward me with open arms.
"Mommy, Mommy!" She collides with me in a hug, and I feel like the worst mother ever.
I press a kiss to the top of her head as soon as she's in my arms. "Hey, sweetheart. I’m so sorry for not coming earlier; traffic was a nightmare today." Sharon looks up at me with relief in her big blue eyes, mixed with something else that's hard to decipher.
"It’s okay, Mommy," she tells me. Her voice comes out small and tired.
I brush away a stray curl from her face. "Are you okay sweetie-pie? Miss Evans called and said you had a rough day. Do you want to talk about it?"
Sharon’s lower lip quivers and she looks down at her shoes. "The kids were mean to me, Mommy," she whispers almost inaudibly.
My heart squeezes with protectiveness and anger. Who could be mean to my sweet baby girl?
"I’m so sorry, honey. What happened?" I ask. Sharon remains silent, burying her head into my chest. "It’s okay, baby," I urge gently, "you know you can talk to me."
I wait patiently for her to say something, anything, but it seems like she’s having one of her quiet moments. She buries her face into my chest, her little hand clinging onto the fabric of my blouse. I release a heavy sigh, realizing that pushing her for answers won’t do any good. "It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s go talk to Miss Evans, okay?"
Miss Evans, Sharon’s teacher, greets us with an empathetic smile as we enter her office. "Hi, Miss Evans," I tell her. "Sorry for not getting here earlier. I had a crazy day at work and I only heard your voicemail on the way here."
"It’s alright, Miss Williams. Just wanted to let you know that Sharon had a tough day today," Miss Evans says sympathetically and glances at Sharon. "Right, kiddo? Got into a few scuffles with the other kids?"
Sharon nods silently in agreement.
"I see. Is there anything we can do to make sure this doesn’t happen again?" I ask Miss Evans, choosing my words carefully around Sharon. I don’t want to scare her or make her feel like she’s done something wrong.
"About that, Miss Williams,” Miss Evans says, her tone hesitant, "Mrs. West would like to talk to you."
I feel the color drain from my face. Why would the school principal want to speak to me?
"Now?" I ask anxiously.
Miss Evans nods somberly. "She’s waiting for you in her office," she confirms.
I try to remain calm, but my voice quivers a little as I ask, "Do you know why?"
Miss Evans hesitates again before responding, "I’m sure Mrs. West will explain everything to you." She looks at Sharon. "I’ll watch Sharon in the meantime," she offers kindly.
Shit.
Why would Mrs. West want to talk to me at such a short notice? It’s the end of the day and all the kids are out of here. Has Sharon done something serious? Either way, this can’t be good.
I kneel down to Sharon’s level, giving her a reassuring smile. "Sweetie, I’m going to go talk to Mrs. West. Can you stay here with Miss Evans? I’ll be back soon, okay?"
Sharon nods in silence, but her eyes are filled with worry. I give her a reassuring kiss before standing up and exiting the room.
As I make my way towards Mrs. West’s office, my mind races. Is Sharon in trouble? Is she being bullied? My stomach churns with anxiety.
Take a chill pill, Mindy!
You’re being an overthinker again!
It’s true. I do think way too much and it hasn’t served me once. I take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm my nerves. But I can’t help feeling like I’m walking into a storm, unprepared and vulnerable. With each step I take, my worry grows. I’ve always known Sharon was different, more sensitive than other kids. But I thought we were managing, and that everything is under control.
As I reach Mrs. West’s door, I pause for a second, letting my hand hover over the knob. Whatever’s waiting for me on the other side, I have to face it and be strong. For Sharon. For us.
I take one last steadying breath before I knock on the door, preparing myself for whatever comes next.