Chapter 10
Rachel
“Shit, shit, shit.” Karan breezes past me to pour himself some coffee, knocking against my elbow in the process.
“Watch it,” I spit out as I grab my own freshly poured mug and head to the table.
Océane, who’s flipping pancakes in front of the stove, peers over at Karan with a worried expression. Her long hair is pulled back into a huge bun, but it looks like it’s been brushed.
She’s having a good day today. No—a great one. She had so much energy this morning that she simply insisted she had to make us breakfast to thank us for our hospitality.
“Are you okay?” Océane asks Karan.
“Yeah, I’m fine, but I’m going to be late.” Karan sets his mug on the table, then walks over to Cayce and Corey’s seats, ruffling their hair. “I think I might switch to a travel mug and go now.”
“Why?” I look at the clock hanging over the stove. “You’re right on time. What’s the rush?”
I can’t help the accusatory tone that slips between my teeth.
“You need to eat!” Océane says as she slides a stack of pancakes on a plate, walks over to the table, and places them at Karan’s spot. “Here, you can have the first ones.”
Karan looks at the pancakes, then at me, and back at the pancakes before taking a seat. “Yeah, these look too good.”
“Can I be next?” Cayce calls out to his aunt.
“No, me!” his brother argues.
“You’ll get yours at the same time,” I firmly tell my boys before turning my attention back to Karan. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Karan is about to take a bite, but stops short of the forkful of pancakes entering his mouth. “Boss wants me in early to fix a bug.”
My shoulders tense. “They keep making you stay late, and now they’re going to make you come in early, too? Seriously, where does this end?”
“You know what’ll make this better?” Océane chirps out with a big smile. “Orange juice!”
She pours a glass from the carafe of juice on the counter, then saunters over to Karan. It’s been such a long time since I’ve since her walk with such a pep in her step. Inviting her over was the best thing I’ve done since…
Océane’s face suddenly twists in pain, and she stumbles.
I watch nearly in slow motion as the glass of orange juice slips from her fingers, falling onto Karan’s lap and soaking his suit.
Océane catches herself before she falls to the ground, her face still twisted in pain.
But her look of pain turns into horror when she notices the mess.
“Oh, no, no, no,” she whimpers. “I’m so sorry, Karan!”
Karan doesn’t say anything at first. He’s stuck in place, his face frozen in shock. Even the boys are quiet.
I’m the first to make a move.
“Let me find some towels.”
Then, I head towards the bathroom.
“It’s fine,” Karan calls out. “I’m going to need to change anyway.”
When I’m back, Océane is kneeling on the floor, her face still warped in pain.
“Boys, pancakes are canceled,” I say.
They start whining, but I interrupt.
“Grab yourselves cereal instead, then go get dressed. No whining.”
I place my hand on Océane’s shoulder as I lean down. “Let me.”
“No.” Tears glimmer in the corner of her eyes as she keeps wiping the floor with paper towels. “This is my fault.”
I kneel next to her and start mopping up the mess with the towel. “Océane, you’re in pain. Just… go rest.”
“I’m always in pain.” She stops wiping; a tear drops onto the floor below her. “I just wanted to help, for once.”
“Hey.” I let go of the towel and cradle both her shoulders. “I appreciate the effort. I really do. Thank you for what you tried to do, but you’re here so that I can take care of you. Not the other way around.”
Our bedroom door slams shut. Karan, now changed into fresh clothes, rushes past the kitchen towards the front door.
“I gotta go, see you guys tonight!” he calls out right before leaving.
Just like that.
I reign in all the thoughts I have about his stupid job and his stupid boss. Right now, I need to focus on Océane.
“He’s going to be pissed, isn’t he?” Océane asks as more tears fall.
“Karan? I don’t think so. Seriously, Océane, don’t worry about it.” I grab my towel again and finish wiping what’s left of the juice on the floor. “Don’t try to work through pain. Please.”
She blinks away her tears and sits up. “I don’t want to be a burden to you guys.”
“You’re not a burden. I promise.” I kiss the top of her forehead and hope with all of my heart that she believes me.
I’m in the middle of filling a prescription when Trey walks up to me, his eyes wide.
Oh, God, what is it now?
“Hey, I think it’s the school on the phone for you,” Trey says with a shaky voice. “You can’t catch a break, can you?”
An inkling of dread grabs hold of me. I look down at the prescriptions I’m working on, then gaze out to the waiting area, where Mr. Therrien is patiently waiting for his heart medication.
As much as I want to drop everything and run to the phone, I need to stay focused on finishing this task first.
A stray thought goes to my boys. So many things could be wrong. Maybe it’s something minor. Or not so minor.
The anticipation is killing me.
I steady myself. “Tell them I’m going to call them back in five minutes, okay?”
Trey frowns. “It seemed urgent.”
Fuck.
Don’t you think I know that? I want to scream at the young tech.
But there’s no use. He doesn’t have kids of his own, and is likely years away from thinking about such things.
So, I breathe in through my nose to calm myself instead. “Okay. I need to finish this prescription first. They’re aware of what my job entails.”
That’s why the school has been instructed to call Karan first whenever something urgent happens. They must have tried that.
And failed.
Trey nods nervously and heads back out to the phone.
I finish what I have to do, careful to move quickly without rushing anything or losing focus. Once I’ve spoken to Mr. Therrien and kindly sent him on his way, I rush to the phone. My fingers dial the number faster than my brain can recall it, the act having become almost muscle memory by now.
Once the secretary picks up, I can hardly contain my voice. “It’s Rachel Béchard. You called about Cayce and Corey Bhatia?”
“Yes, Miss Béchard. I think it would be best if you came and collected the boys.”
The dread strangles my heart. “What happened?”
“There’s been an incident with a substitute.”
The secretary refuses to go into more detail, telling me it’s best for me to come down and discuss it in person. So I bottle up the anxiety and the fear and make my way to the school, leaving my work yet again.
Once I finally arrive, a wave of relief floods through me at the sight of Cayce and Corey sitting in the office, side by side on the uncomfortable couch, their little faces tearstained by otherwise looking okay. I rush to them and scoop them up into my arms.
They cling to me for dear life, apparently still shaken from whatever happened to bring me here. I stroke their hair and murmur calming words into their ears, our moment of unity broken only by the throat-clearing of a woman behind me.
I turn, lifting both boys on my lap, and only now notice the two other adults in the room. Principal Zaidi is sitting calmly at his desk, while a woman I don’t know, a young, pale, nervous-looking girl, stands with her hands wringing together.
“Thank you for coming in, Miss Béchard,” Principal Zaidi says, speaking in his usual calming tone.
“What exactly happened?” I ask, keeping a hand on each son for their comfort.
“I’m so sorry!” the young woman bursts out, wringing her hands more violently than before, her gaze flitting to us and then away frantically. “I didn’t know… If I’d been told, I would have done things differently, I wouldn’t hav—”
“Léa,” Principal Zaidi interrupts, placing a hand on forearm. “Take a breath, okay?”
Léa’s panic sure as hell isn’t making me feel at ease, but I reel back the urge to go full mom-zilla and instead turn my attention to the principal.
“Léa’s new, and she was replacing Miss Thérèse, who’s out sick for the day.” An idea of what happened starts forming in my head, and now I’m the one who starts to feel sick. “I take full responsibility for not briefing Léa appropriately before she took over the classroom this morning.”
“She separated them.” The words that come out of my mouth are a statement, not a question.
Léa stifles a sob. “I wanted to help the kids practice doing activities with a wider variety of people. I swear, I didn’t know it would… they would…”
I take a deep breath and let out a sigh, slowly. I’m so tired. On my lap, Cayce and Corey are still slightly trembling.
I go on autopilot for the rest of the meeting, accepting the young substitute teacher’s apologies without complaint. The truth is, these types of mistakes can happen. No matter how much I try to do to protect my boys, the world is bound to throw something at them to hurt them.
The best I can do is be there for them in the fallout, and make sure to bring them to every therapy appointment.
I only wish I didn’t have to do it all alone.
The drive home is uneventful, the boys’ usual energetic chatter tempered to a heavy quiet. To get their mind off the whole thing, I encourage them to ‘help’ me make dinner once we arrive home, tasking them with stirring the pot of pasta while I focus on a simple white wine sauce.
Océane joins us for dinner, then insists on heading to the living room to play with them. I make the most of the opportunity to catch up on some reading I’ve meant to do.
It’s only hours later, at 8 PM, that the front door slams shut, louder than I’m accustomed to.
Karan’s heavy footsteps echo through the condo, followed by the thud of his laptop bag hitting the ground. I peek my head out of our bedroom and into the hallway to find him running his hands through his dark hair. A few strands loosen from his usually neat bun.
“Hey,” I call out softly, despite not feeling soft at all.
He got called in early this morning, and now he’s back late.
As always.
“Dinner’s ready. I kept it warm for you.”