The grumpy man had literally saved my child’s life, and he hadn’t shared with me.
Last night, I hadn’t had much time to talk to him.
He’d been called away for work stuff almost immediately after Wendy had been discharged to go home, two stitches above her eye and two on her wrist.
“Do you think, maybe, you can bring me lunch?”
The way Wendy batted her eyes at me made me want to laugh.
Where had she even learned that?
“I think I might be able to do that,” I said. “You eat at ten thirty, right?”
She nodded excitedly.
I looked at my watch.
Eight o’clock.
“Hop out, baby girl,” I said. “It’s time to go inside.”
I’d talked myself out of walking her inside.
One, because Wendy wouldn’t want me to. She liked being considered a “big girl.”
And two, because if I walked in with her, I might not leave.
I trusted the school.
They’d done everything that they should have.
It wasn’t their fault that there were sick individuals in the world.
“Love you, Coco.”
I sighed. “Love you, too, daughter.”
She hopped out, and a teacher instantly latched onto her hand, protective to the core.
I breathed out a long, drawn-out breath and waited until they were all the way inside with the doors closed behind them before I drove away.
I didn’t go home, though.
First, I drove past the man’s house that never seemed to stray far from my mind.
Not finding him there, I drove past his office and still didn’t spot him.
The next stop was Hopps, where I’d seen him eating breakfast that one day.
When I still didn’t find him there, I got frustrated.
I had no way to contact the damn frustrating man.
So I drove back to his house and slapped a note on the door, written on the back of a receipt.
It would be nice to be able to get a hold of you, loser. How am I supposed to do that without your number?
I left my number at the bottom of the receipt, unsigned.
