Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
POLLY
The company didn’t just fuck me over. They fucked me sideways, upside down, every which way to Sunday, and everywhere in between.
American Tie by Lady Jane
Narrated by Brittney Houston
I didn’t get Jace’s number. Probably for the best, even though Ryla was able to piece together an explanation that assured me he wasn’t a pedophile. I had a meeting with Dr. Dixon on Thursday afternoon, so Leah agreed to take the kids to her house after school. I conveniently forgot to tell her about my encounter with Jace on Tuesday. I’d barely let myself think about it. Every time I thought of being interrupted before I could get his phone number, I chided myself for feeling disappointed. I should not be thinking of a twenty-four-year-old guy that way.
Yes, I’d learned his age from Ryla, too. Something else I’d thought about too much over the past forty-eight hours.
Dr. Dixon, who served as the school district’s medical director for the past twenty plus years, was nice, for a dinosaur. At seventy-nine, he’d been working at Mercy Health since its inception in 1983. I’d been taught by plenty of doctors that were older. One of my favorite med school professors was in his eighties. But Dr. Dixon had a white lab coat buttoned with the wrong buttons and had so much dry skin flaking off his ear that when he adjusted his hearing aid, it looked like a thin layer of salt was covering his desk.
Shudder.
He wasn’t a wealth of knowledge about the school district position either. I got the impression that he was a medical director in name only when he pulled out a dusty binder when I asked what he used to look up school policy. At least I’d been emailed a copy of the contract that outlined my responsibilities in detail. Once I read the twelfth bullet point, I’d rubbed my forehead harder than normal. Four hours per week, I think not. It would take all the extra time I saved by working reduced hours at the clinic, but I’d have to deal with it. I couldn’t do overnights on call anymore; it was too hard to find help. And even though I’d just gotten a response from my insurance saying that I won my appeal to cover Max’s IOP bills from earlier this year, I still needed health insurance. Max’s therapist had recommended DBT therapy. He also placed a referral for an updated neuropsychology evaluation after agreeing with me Max should be evaluated for an autism spectrum disorder. Should he need it, he could only receive school accommodations for this if he had an official diagnosis. In a stroke of luck, Max’s therapist was able to get us an expedited appointment with a pediatric neuropsychologist in Knoxville in three months.
How did a child without connections, without parental buy-in, afford and receive that kind of help? Perhaps being the medical director of the school district would be an opportunity for change.
With all of that swimming in my head, it was no wonder I couldn’t concentrate on my audiobook, rewinding the same part three times before I pulled into Leah’s driveway. As I walked into her house, I rolled my neck to release some of the tension that had taken up permanent residence in my upper back and shoulders.
“Hey,” Leah whispered when I found her in the kitchen. She waved me down the hall, and I poked my head into their family room, seeing Ryla asleep on the couch. She was using their Bernese mountain dog, Bernie, as a pillow.
Asleep, Ryla looked like the five-year-old she still was for a few more days. Her cute, rounded cheeks and pursed mouth reminding me of Max before he lost all his baby fat. Leaving the door open a crack, I followed Leah to her kitchen.
“Where’s Max?”
“He’s downstairs, playing video games with Belle and Kyle.”
“Really?” After his panic attack two days ago, I was living with the constant worry that he was going to relapse. But the next day he got up and went to summer school without significant fuss.
Leah winked. “It surprised me, too. But when Belle offered him the controller, he took it and sat next to her, like it was no big deal.” She opened the fridge. “You want to stay for dinner? I’m making spaghetti.”
I hesitated. Staying for dinner was tempting. Waking Ryla early from a nap was a guaranteed screaming match, then I’d have to get us all home, make dinner, do two nanny interviews on the phone, then get everyone settled into bed. I felt exhausted just thinking about it. But, Max was an incredibly picky eater. Unless Leah had a specific brand of dino nuggets, he wasn’t going to eat anything here.
“You don’t happen to have dino nuggets from the Pig, do you?” I joked humorlessly, mentally preparing to wake the sleeping dragon that was Ryla.
“Do I have dino nuggets?” Leah pulled out her freezer drawer with a flourish, displaying several boxes of the exact brand Max ate. “I saw them in your freezer and was intrigued. Eric’s hooked. He’s really into dinosaurs.”
I almost gave her a hug. “Yes! We can stay. How can I help?”
Leah pointed to a cutting board and strainer with freshly washed strawberries on the counter. I got to work cutting them up as Leah offered me a glass of wine.
“No thanks, but I’d love an iced coffee.”
Leah glanced at her watch. “This late?”
“It’s going to be a long night. I have phone interviews with two nanny candidates later tonight. If they’re even decently good, I’ll have to beg them to start next Monday.”
“How’d your meeting with Dr. Dixon go?” Leah’s voice was muffled as she dug through a lower cabinet, presumably looking for a pot.
I laughed humorlessly, continuing to slice the stems off the berries, the monotonous task somehow soothing. “The most eventful part of our meeting was when the batteries for his hearing aids died, and I spent the latter half of the interview practically shouting at him. Not that he was a fountain of knowledge before that.”
Snorting, Leah stood up, pot in hand. “Did I tell you that he was Kyle’s doctor as a kid? Kyle said he seemed ancient even back then, bless his heart.”
“I’m not surprised. I don’t think he does much for the district.”
“Do you think you’re going to do it?” Leah asked while filling up the pot with water.
I shrugged. “Probably. And who knows, maybe something good can even come out of it. There were so many barriers when I tried to set up a 504 plan with Max’s school in Chicago.”
Leah was well aware of this as she was my main sounding board during that time. In February, when Max was ready to be discharged from his intensive outpatient program, his school told me that they wouldn’t be able to determine if he was even eligible for services for two months—by which time school would almost be done for the year. And let me be clear, I wasn’t worried about how he would do academically. Max was incredibly smart; his actual schoolwork was not a challenge for him. I worried about how he’d suffer socially with his teachers and his peers who didn’t understand anxiety. Who didn’t ask the questions or take the time to understand Max .
“That reminds me!” Leah eyes were bright as she brought the pot to the stove. “I saw Rose at school today, my friend and special ed coordinator I told you about? When I told her about you, well, if she were a dog, she’d have peed all over the floor.”
I stopped cutting strawberries to look at her, “Is that a saying?”
“It could be. Too much?”
“You’re right at the line.”
“She’d love to talk to you. Can I give you her email? Or phone number?”
I nodded, returning to cutting the berries. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Great! Where’s your phone?”
My hands were full of strawberry juice, so I nodded toward my purse, giving Leah my phone’s passcode so she could enter Rose’s contact info. I was busy chopping when I heard Leah ask, “Hey, Polly? What’s this?”
“What’s what?” I asked, still looking down, when I heard a voice.
“ buck and groan and curse and finally, I was over, over, over that glorious edge ? —”
My head sprang up to see Leah gaping at my phone in her hands, the audiobook I’d been listening to earlier blaring out loud. Leah shifted to stare at me, one hand going to her mouth.
“Shit!” I cried, dropping the knife, frantically searching for something to wipe my hands on as I rounded the island hastily, but Leah held my phone out of my reach and ran around the island in the opposite direction.
“Turn that off!” I hissed from across the island.
There was no other word to describe Leah’s expression other than gleeful as the phone continued to play.
“ shaking and gasping my release, his fingers still inside of me, his lips over that bundle of nerves, his tongue wicked.”
I practically threw myself across the island, grabbed the phone from Leah—strawberry hands and all—and turned it off. I considered hurling it against the wall for good measure, but settled for pressing it against my chest.
Cheeky delight filled Leah’s face. “What was THAT?!” she whisper-shouted.
“It was nothing !” I hissed. “You heard nothing! ” Mortified, I looked around wildly, then, spotting a roll of paper towels, I grabbed a few and wiped off my hands and phone.
“That was not nothing, that was hot ! I didn’t know you listened to books like that. How long have you been reading romance?” Leah came around the island to stand next to me.
“This is my first one,” I lied, throwing the paper towels away. Leah began to bounce up and down beside me with presumed elation.
“I’m just. So. PROUD!” Leah suddenly hugged me, rocking me from side to side, like we were in the middle school bathroom after hearing a rumor that a crush had asked about us. Not that I’d had an experience like that, but I surmise that’s what happened when one was in the seventh grade and actually had friends at school.
Pulling back, Leah held onto my shoulders. “Welcome.”
I darted my eyes from side to side, then back to Leah, my confusion stymieing my embarrassment for a moment. “To where?”
“To the romance book club sisterhood.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Women who read romance? And I’m not talking your grocery store bodice ripper, five-dollar types, though I’m not opposed to a good bodice ripping. I mean all genres of romance. Open-door, closed-door, morally gray, fantasy, rom-com. I’m here for all of it. But I didn’t know you would be!”
She started to dance what looked to be a mix between the running man and cabbage patch. Noticing my wary expression, she stopped. “Unless . . . you’re really telling me the truth? Is this your first one?” Leah almost sounded disappointed.
I glanced over my shoulder, making sure we were alone. “Of course it’s not my first one,” I whispered. “But I don’t talk to anyone about it!”
This had Leah dancing around me all over again. “Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit! This is the best surprise ever. I never knew you liked reading romance, like the rest of us enlightened ones. There’s so few of us.” She said that last part to herself, solemnly, then held out her hand to me.
“Alright, let me see it.”
“What?”
“Your Kindle library. And Audible library. Are you a Kobo girl? Google Play? Oh! Do you Hoopla! Or Libby? Our library is getting really good, we have an in with one of the librarians.” Leah clapped her hands again. “I’ve been reading romance for years! When did you start? I can’t wait to talk about it with you!”
Leah was talking so fast, like she usually did when she got excited, that it took me a minute to process. “I’ve been reading romance since I was pregnant with Ryla. There was a Twilight marathon on TV, and I couldn’t sleep. I was curious what all the fuss was about.”
Leah nodded, her tone becoming reverent. “ Twilight . It paved the way for so many of us.” She tilted her head to the side, her expression turning sad. “Have you really never talked to anyone about what you read? Talking about books is half the fun of reading.”
I opened my mouth, but she cut me off before I could answer.
“Forget I asked that, stupid question. Of course you haven’t told anyone. Not that I don’t understand. We’re conditioned to think that reading romance is shameful and dirty and just for us lonely mommas,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
While her comment stung a bit, she wasn’t wrong. It’s why I hadn’t told anyone about reading romance. The appearance of impropriety was something I’d been strictly programmed to protect against. And not only that, I feared no one would take me seriously if they knew I read romance. It became a dirty secret; or at least, a secret part of me I didn’t share with anyone.
But this was Leah, my best friend, and although it was hard for me to trust anyone, I trusted her. Sighing, I pulled up my Kindle app and handed her my phone.
“Have at it.”
Exclaiming gleefully, Leah plopped herself down on a stool as I finished slicing the last of the strawberries. Leah was smiling and talking quietly to herself as she scrolled through my collection. “You have such a great taste in books! You’ll have to send me screenshots of your library.”
Leah put down my phone and went to the stove, turning on the burner to let the water boil before she spoke again.
“You should come to my book club. We try to get together once a month. Now that I know that you read the same stuff, you’d be the perfect addition.”
Apprehension coiled its way around my body. I knew I’d regret talking about this. The thought of talking to women I’ve never met before, and about romance novels no less, made my palms sweat.
At my silence, she asked. “What’s going on in that brilliant brain of yours?”
I shrugged. “I’ve never been great at making girlfriends.”
Leah scowled. “I blame your daddy and the lack of sleepovers. But what about friends in college?”
For some reason, my reply was hesitant, trusting Leah . . . but still finding it hard to tell her the truth.
“I didn’t have many.” Any. “I was in a single dorm room and studying took up most of my time so I could graduate in three years. I rarely went to parties.” Never. “Then in medical school, I met David. Any friends I made after that were our friends, never mine. And he kept them all in the divorce.” Not that they really knew the real me.
Giving me a determined look, Leah crossed her arms. “Alright. Our next book club is next week, Saturday, and you’re coming.”
“But—” I started.
Leah shook her head. There was no compromising with her. “It’s done. Kyle can watch the kids. It won’t be a tough sell to get my kids to your house anyway. They found out you had an inground pool from Ryla this week.”
“What if I don’t want to go?” I hedged.
“You’ll love the book! I picked one of my all-time favorites. It’s a slow burn grumpy sunshine about a vegan professional football player who pays his ex-assistant to marry him so he can stay in the country. He’s from Canada.” Leah snapped her finger. “Ha! You’re already intrigued, I can tell. Come on, you can bring all the iced coffee you can drink, what do you say?”
I sent her a reproachful glare. “You could charm the skin off a snake.”
“Attagirl! You can take the girl out of the South, but not the South out of the girl. You’re just one y’all away from eatin’ grits in the mornin’!”
I groaned. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Nothing ventured, and all that. Now let’s talk about that book you were listening to . . .”