Page 157 of Reeves

"Good job, Mason. You touched it."

Behind me, his mother shifts on the couch. I hear the creak of leather and the soft intake of breath that means she's watching every detail, cataloging every small movement for signs of progress or failure.

My phone buzzes against my hip. Then again.

I ignore it and reset Mason's position.

"Let's try again."

Sweat collects at the base of my neck where my hair meets the collar of my scrubs. It's warm in here. Mason's coordination falters when he gets too hot or too tired, so I try not to push him too much.

His arm drifts toward the ring without my guidance this time. His fingers spread, then close around nothing as his hand falls short.

"Almost there. One more time."

I support his trunk again, feeling the soft give of muscles that should be stronger by now. But progress happens in millimeters with hypotonia. Every small gain counts.

Mason's hand moves forward. His fingers wrap around the ring.

"Perfect. You did it."

I keep my voice calm and steady, but I'm ecstatic over the tiny milestone. These moments make everything else worth it.

Mason holds the ring for three seconds before his grip fails, and it bounces back.

I turn toward his mother.

"Did you see how his shoulder stayed stable that time? That's what we want to practice daily. Support here, gentle pressure here, and let him do the reaching."

She nods, leaning forward to watch as I demonstrate the hand positioning.

"Three times, twice a day. Don't push if he gets fussy. Stop and try again later."

My phone buzzes again. I finish packing my supplies into the therapy bag, moving without hurry despite the growing heat in the room and the persistent vibration against my leg.

"I'll see you next week, Mason."

I step outside into the humid afternoon. The sun hits my face, and I pull my phone from my pocket as the controlled quiet of the house drops away behind me.

Three missed calls from Westlake Elementary flash on my screen.

My stomach drops.

Something happened to Benjy.

I press the callback button as I fumble for my keys. The phone rings once before someone picks up.

"Westlake Elementary School, how may I help you?"

"Hi. This is Charli Parsons. My son is in kindergarten, and I saw a few missed calls."

"Hi, Ms. Parsons. Benjy's fine. We had an AC failure this morning. The building's too warm for the children, so we're requesting early pickup today for all students."

My shoulders release tension I didn't realize I was holding. My knees loosen as I sink into the seat.

"How warm is too warm?"

"Eighty-seven degrees in most classrooms. We've opened windows and brought in fans, but it's really not ideal for the kids. We're making sure everyone has plenty of water, so he's safe, just probably a little uncomfortable."