Chapter 13 Esme
ESME
An envelope from USC came in the afternoon mail, thick and official-looking, with Robbie’s name printed across the front.
I stared at it, wondering if I should open it or wait for Robbie to get home from school.
I couldn’t imagine what they would be sending him.
Maybe they were trying to recruit him? But he was only fourteen.
Was he going to be one of those kids who started college four years younger than everyone else?
With his intellect, he could handle the academics.
However, he was much too young emotionally for college.
“What’s that?” Madison was reading at the table, her cast propped on a pillow.
“Something for Robbie.”
I set it on the counter and continued to gaze at it, questioning whether I should leave it be until he got home.
Trevor came to sit on his haunches beside me, looking up at the counter. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I can open my own child’s mail,” I said to him as I slid my finger under the glued flap of the envelope and immediately gave myself a paper cut. Ignoring that, I pulled out the paperwork.
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
USC Young Innovators STEM Academy
Dear Robbie Taylor:
Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as one of eight students nationwide to participate in this year’s USC Young Innovators STEM Academy.
This year’s program received over 400 applications from exceptionally talented students.
Your application stood out for its demonstrated excellence in your computational mathematics and innovative problem-solving approach.
Your teacher’s recommendation and your algorithm design portfolio were particularly impressive.
Program Details:
Dates: June 15-July 12 (4 weeks)
Location: USC Campus, Los Angeles, California
Focus: Advanced computational modeling, artificial intelligence, and data science
Includes: Laboratory access, mentorship with USC faculty, collaborative research project, and campus housing.
Program Investment:
Total Cost: $5,800
Includes tuition, housing, meals, materials, and lab fees
A nonrefundable deposit of $2,000 is due by November 21 to secure your placement
Remaining balance of $3,800 is due by May 1
To accept your placement, please complete the enclosed enrollment form and submit your deposit by the deadline noted above.
We look forward to welcoming you to USC this summer.
Sincerely,
Dr. Patricia Rowe, Director, Young Innovators STEM Academy
I leaned against the counter. When had Robbie applied for this? How did I not know? Of course he got in. He was brilliant. But there was no way I could find the money for him to go.
Robbie came home from school a little after three. “Hello, Mother.”
I held up the thick envelope. “Something came for you.”
He paled slightly and took a few steps backward. “Did you read it?”
“Yes. Apparently you’ve been accepted to a program I knew nothing about.” My voice came out sharper than I wished, but I was ticked. “Why did you do this without telling me?”
Trevor let out a whine and dropped to the floor, covering his eyes with his paws.
“I didn’t think I’d get in and didn’t want you to worry about the cost if it didn’t matter. My teacher kind of pushed me to apply.”
“Well, you did get in.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Robbie watched me with a careful expression. “Anyway, it’s fine. I don’t even want to go.”
“You wouldn’t have applied if you didn’t want to go.”
“Like I said, my teacher was the one who suggested it. I don’t care about it. Even if I did, we don’t have the money. A fairly simple math computation tells us that.” He tried to smile but it looked more like a nervous twitch on the corners of his mouth.
My son was a smart boy but a terrible liar.
Robbie folded the letter, put it back in the envelope, and walked to his room. The door closed quietly behind him.
I stood there in the kitchen, staring at nothing, until Madison’s voice drew my attention.
“Mommy, what’s the matter? Why’s Robbie sad?”
Because I’m a horrible mother who makes irresponsible choices.
Out loud, I said. “He’s disappointed that he can’t go to a STEM program this summer.”
“Why can’t he go?”
“It costs a lot of money.”
Madison pulled her feet under her chair, crossing one ankle over the other. “Oh. That makes me sad for him.”
Me too, baby. Me too.
Despite the sick feeling in my stomach, I managed to make tacos for dinner.
Robbie didn’t come out of his room until I knocked and told him dinner was ready.
During our meal, Madison chattered about school, about how three more kids had signed her cast and her teacher had drawn a pink heart with a permanent marker.
Robbie answered when spoken to but volunteered nothing.
Trevor sat at our feet, tail thumping against the floor, hopeful someone would drop a bit of ground turkey.
After dinner, Robbie cleared and rinsed his plate and then headed to his room, closing that darn door behind him once again.
Trying to hold myself together, I ran a bath for Madison.
She needed help getting undressed since the cast made everything harder, so I knelt on the bathroom floor, unbuttoning her shirt, sliding it over the cast while she winced.
“I can do it, Mommy,” she said, the same thing she’d been saying since September when she’d announced she was a big girl now and didn’t need help anymore.
She’d been dressing and undressing herself for weeks—picking her own outfits, tying her own shoes, insisting on privacy in the bathroom.
I’d been so proud of her independence that I hadn’t questioned it.
Now, with one arm in a cast, she couldn’t manage alone. When I knelt down to carefully peel off her socks, I saw what her independence had been hiding.
The nail was split near the tip, a shadow of dried blood trapped beneath it. The skin at the corner was swollen and raw, like it had been pressed there day after day.
“Madison, what happened to your foot?”
She pulled it back, tucking it under her other leg. “Nothing.”
“That’s not nothing. Let me see.”
Reluctantly, she extended her foot. I took it gently, examining the damage. The nail was cracked, like it had been pressed against something too hard for too long.
Her shoes.
“Baby, are your shoes too small?”
She didn’t answer.
“Madison. Answer me. Are your shoes hurting your feet?”
“A little bit,” she whispered.
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Weeks? Months?”
“Does the other one hurt too?”
Madison hesitated.
That was answer enough.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
She shrugged, eyes filling with tears. “Because money makes you sad.” Her bottom lip quivered. “And I didn’t want you to be more sad.”
Tiny pricks of guilt stabbed at me. “Oh, baby girl.” I pulled her into my arms, careful of her cast, her wet hair soaking into my shirt. “You should have told me.”
“I didn’t want to make everything worse by needing shoes.”
My baby girl hiding pain because she didn’t want to burden me. How had I not noticed? My God, what kind of mother was I? I held Madison tighter, throat burning. “I’m so sorry,” I said through tears. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Mommy. I’ll just wear my flip-flops tomorrow to school.”
“You need shoes this time of year.” Thinking of her headed into elementary school wearing flip flops in October made me want to scream, then hide under the covers for the rest of my life.
After I got Madison dried off, bandaged her toe, and tucked into bed, I sat in the living room with the lights off.
Trevor rested his head on my lap, sensing something was wrong.
I stroked his soft ears, staring at nothing.
I was utterly failing my babies. I couldn’t give the two people I loved most in the world what they needed.
Robbie, brilliant and kind and deserving, should be able to take advantage of opportunities that could make him shine. But he couldn’t. Because of his mother’s failures. Madison, sweet and soft-hearted and walking around with bleeding feet rather than ask for new shoes. Again, because of me.
I pressed my hands against my face and let myself cry.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I’d divorced Jeff because I thought we’d be better off without him.
And maybe we were. Emotionally, definitely.
But financially? We were drowning. And I was too proud to ask for help.
Too proud to call my parents in Seattle and admit they’d been right all along.
I could hear my mother’s voice in my head, the same disappointed tone she’d used when I told her I was pregnant my sophomore year of college. You’ve just ruined your life.
When the marriage fell apart and I finally filed for divorce, she’d been furious.
You made a commitment. You have children. You don’t just give up because things are hard.
But I wasn’t giving up. I was protecting my kids from a father who did nothing but criticize them.
Like my own parents had criticized me all my life.
Although, I didn’t say that out loud. Everything else we said to each other was bad enough.
We’d had the most terrible fight ever, which was saying a lot, since my mother and I disagreed on pretty much everything.
Things were said that couldn’t be unsaid.
Still, I could call them. I could ask for help.
They would insist I move back to Seattle.
And if I came home with my tail between my legs, I would never be free.
I’d owe them. And they’d remind me, every chance they got, that I couldn’t do it on my own.
That I’d needed them after all. That I’d failed just like they said I would.
I cried harder.
Trevor whined softly, licking my hand. My phone buzzed on the coffee table. I wiped my eyes and picked it up to see a text had come in from Grady.
Grady
Just checking in. Missing home. Missing you guys. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.