41. Callie Rae
Callie Rae
I turn left from the faculty room, walking alongside the row of tall, red lockers. A freshly copied IEP is in my hand, and Cody’s parked at my office door.
I’m offering him a gentle smile as I inch closer. “Hi, Cody. Did you eat lunch first? Or are you eating it with me?”
“Hi, Ms. Montgomery. I already ate,” he says, cradling his binder under his arm.
I nod, hiking my brows. “Ooo, anything good?”
“They had mozzarella sticks today,” he adds.
A chuckle falls from me as I turn my key in the door lock. “You should have told me. I already ate,” I tease.
My hand pushes the heavy door open to allow Cody in first. The cozy, beige walls instantly frame us, the vibrant colors of the scattered posters popping about.
I round my long desk, and Cody occupies the chair in front of it. I rest my pile of papers on the finished wood and say, “So, talk to me about your day.”
I’m flipping my laptop open to type notes from this session. Cody shrugs, his attention dipped to his hands in his lap. They’re fiddling over his jeans when he answers, “It’s okay, I guess.”
“Why do you guess?”
He’s still showing me the top of his shaggy, black hair. “I got a ninety on my math test.”
My heart warms, a smile shedding from my face. “That seems like something to be really proud of.”
He’s quiet for a few moments. “I have to wait for my next visit with my dad.”
The warmth quickly cools when Cody mentions his incarcerated father.
“When is your next visit?” I ask.
“Next Friday,” he answers. His head wags just as his hands squeeze each other tighter. “I’m sick of always having to wait,” he sighs out, slapping his back to the rear of the chair.
His dark eyes finally land on mine, a brokenness buried behind them.
I tentatively nod, empathy radiating from my gaze. I silently tell him that I hear him. That his feelings are valid. But I’m always cautious to say that I understand. He might interpret that as me undermining the magnitude of his trauma.
But I do understand.
I understand more than he’ll ever know.
I know the feeling of being deprived of a rich childhood.
Not in wealth, but in love. I know what it’s like to never be able to sprint home to your parents, just so you can cheer about all your successes from school.
They’d probably hug and kiss you, encourage you with their support as they praised all your accomplishments.
At least, that’s always how I imagined it was for others.
That’s all we can do—Cody and I.
Imagine what it’s like.
“Think of how much more rewarding it’s going to feel when you finally get to show him,” I finally say.
Cody pops a shoulder through his t-shirt, a pout etched on his face. “He’ll act like he cares, but I know when he’s out of jail, he’ll go right back a few months later.”
It’s a deadening feeling. Knowing Cody’s father cares more about a rush from drugs than his own child. A child who’s so intelligent and gentle. A child who deserves none of this.
But Cody isn’t the one who lost in this situation.
His father did.
“Okay,” I begin, shifting in my seat to prop my palms on the armrests. “Instead of thinking about who you can’t tell good news to, think of all the people you can tell.”
He stares blankly at me across a few beats. “My mom. My sister.”
His clipped response tells me this direction isn’t going to be successful, so I sway the conversation. “Do you remember what we discussed last time? About things we can control?”
“Yeah,” he responds, unamused.
I gesture a hand out to motivate him. “List them. What things are in your control?”
He sucks in a tiny breath, pivoting his head to the side. Then he boredly recites what we’ve already discussed. “What I’m going to do next. How I respond.”
“That’s exactly right,” I offer. “No one can take that power away from you, Cody. Maybe you don’t have control over how life pans out and what other people do, but you have the ability to choose how you react. You get to decide what you’re going to do to improve your own life.”
He shakes his head, peeking down at his hands in his lap. “It’s not fair. I didn’t ask for these feelings.”
A fragment of my heart falls with the one that just crashed from his.
“You’re right,” I agree. “Sometimes, we have feelings living inside of us that weren’t invited. But they stay anyway. Especially if they’re influenced by someone or something on the outside,” I reply. “We can only control how we manage those feelings. At least we get something.”
“It’s easier to just be sad sometimes.”
I nod quietly. “Yeah, it is.”
Cody lifts his head, disbelief dashing in his round eyes when I validate his claim.
“But it won’t help,” I add sternly. “At least if you try to break out of some of that sadness, there’s a chance for happiness, Cody. When you don’t try, that’s when it’s impossible.”