Page 91 of Worth the Fall
When I walked into the office, I had to show my ID and sign three separate forms. I had no idea what they said because I didn’t care enough to read them. When the woman gave me directions toward Clara’s classroom, I headed down the long hallway, taking my time to look at all the decorations on each door and the hand-drawn turkeys currently hanging from the ceiling.
I never realized how cheerful elementary schools were. High school lacked the drawings and paintings and colorful notes welcoming you inside. It was like once you left grade school, all the joy was sucked right out. No more fun. No more color. Everything had to be so serious all the time.
When I reached the right classroom number, I peeked inside to see Clara and a few other students sitting on the floor, playing some game. Pulling open the door, I felt a sense of pride as I watched her, oblivious that I’d even come in.
“Who are you?” A woman who I assumed was Clara’s teacher approached me with an unkind glare.
“Miss Brooklyn the Waffle Princess is here!” Clara shouted as she ran for my arms and hopped into them for a hug. “You’re picking me up today?”
“I am,” I said as I quickly put her down.
Kids were heavy. Why did everyone always act like they weighed nothing when they scooped them up?
I turned to face her teacher, who was still staring at me like I’d stolen her lunch box or something equally as offensive.
“Who did you say you were?” she asked again.
“I didn’t. I work with Clara’s father at the resort.”
“Oh.” She suddenly looked relieved. “For a second, I thought you might be...” She stopped short, her words trailing off.
“Thought she might be what, Miss Shooster?” Clara asked, her inquisitive mind working in overtime as she waited for her teacher to respond.
“Yes, Miss Shooster. Thought I might be what?” I pressed because I did not like the vibe this woman was giving off and I’d only just met her.
“I thought you might be Thomas’s girlfriend, but that’s ridiculous,” she said in a tone that I had no words for, and I felt my hackles rise.
“She is my daddy’s girlfriend, Miss Shooster,” Clara boasted. She sounded so proud and so happy that my heart swelled inside my chest.
“Oh. Well, I see.” Her eyes raked the length of me, like I was somehow unworthy of Thomas’s attention.
“Go get your things, Clara,” I said with a smile, and she rushed off to grab them from wherever they were kept.
“I thought Thomas didn’t date.” She shook her head like she couldn’t wrap her mind around the concept.
“I guess he just didn’t want to date you,” I said with a shrug, knowing that it was a damn mean thing to say, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
Clara was back at my side then, reaching for my hand.
“Ready?” I looked down at her, and she grinned.
“Ready,” she replied as she started pulling me toward the door without saying bye to her teacher. We were in the empty hallway when she said, “I think Miss Shooster likes my daddy.”
“Do you want her to like your daddy?” I asked before wishing I hadn’t.
I needed to remember that Clara wasn’t an adult that I could have grown-up conversations with, even though she acted like it at times, all observant and smart.
She made a face and shook her head. “No. I want you to like my daddy so much that you marry him.”
“You do?” I whispered as I leaned down, our hands still clasped together.
“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “I would like you to be my mama someday.”
Clara said the words so easily, so sweetly that I started to tear up. The emotions caught me off guard, and I wiped under my eyes quickly so the tears didn’t actually fall.
“Oh.” I had no idea what to say. What was the right thing? What was appropriate?
She stopped walking and pulled her little hand from mine. When I looked at her, her mouth was pinched with concern. “You don’t want to be my mom? I’ve never really had a mom before. I think you’d be a good one.”