Page 57 of Big Man on Campus

“No, I swear I didn’t.” I swallow hard. “I thought of it, but I didn’t.” My heart pounds as I await his verdict like he’s my executioner.

“Then why do you have a nip in your bag?” All the blood seems to drain from me like it’s being sucked from me by a giant invisible vampire. I feel faint and dizzy, but I’m holding Belle and grip her in my arms like I’m holding on for dear life.

“I… didn’t,” I say, “I meant to throw it away.” Hearing the words come from my mouth, even though I know they’re true, they sound lame and I don’t blame him for the look of skepticism. “Please believe me Kace, it’s true. I went to AA with Majik last night and after—”

“You went to an AA meeting with Majik?” His face changes, looking lighter, less weighed down all of a sudden as if he’s had a magic wand brushed across it transforming him. He comes to me and takes me in his arms, Belle and all, causing her to stir.

I nod like a bobblehead, feeling silly that I forgot to tell him about it.

“I’m so proud of you, Sunshine,” he whispers in my ear and kisses my temple causing a shiver of longing and need to go through me. That supersonic indelible connection we have is still there, in full force.

But I have no time to appreciate it because the full force of consequences descends on me the instant the Perinis burst through the doors and see me.

Mrs. Perini screeches and races to me, ripping Belle from my arms. She immediately lets out a wail, but when she sees her mother she clutches at her and loss wars with relief, churning my gut.

“What happened, Glory?” Mr. Perini asks, sounding reasonable. So I explain while Kace holds me tight. While Mrs. Perini cries, cuddling Belle.

“I want to see Beau,” she says.

As if on cue, a doctor returns to the room. “Admissions told me you arrived. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Perini.” He tells them they can see Beau, but before they follow him, Mr. Perini turns to me.

“It goes without saying that you’ll never care for our children again.”

The strike of his words is like a stab through my heart. Kace tightens his hold and whispers something to me, but I’m struggling to breath.

“Glory,” he says and turns me in his arms to face him. He takes my face in his hands and says, “Don’t worry. He’s upset right now. He’ll—”

The swinging door to the room crashes open, interrupting him, and the Day Care director storms in.

“Mrs. Perini called me. She told me there was an accident. That Beau wasn’t in a car seat.” She’s crying and I don’t know what to say, but Kace answers for me.

“Beau is fine. He’s in stable condition. His parents are with him now.”

“Thank you.” She stops crying, dabs at her eyes and turns to me. “Why didn’t you tell me that you needed a ride? Why couldn’t you drive? Why an Uber?”

A million ways to respond to her flash through my mind. Because I was too ashamed to admit I’m afraid to drive with a passenger, because I crashed my car when I was driving drunk, because I’m a confused mess.

“I don’t have a license.” It’s a lie, but it’s simpler than telling her the whole long story that I’m afraid to drive now because of my drunk driving accidents. The truth is that I don’t deserve a license.

I feel Kace’s body heat, breathe in his scent as he surrounds me, takes me in his arms and whispers that I don’t have to admit anything. That less is more. He’s essentially telling me to shut up. But talking is what’s saving me right now. Taking responsibility is what I need to do if I ever want that elusive redemption.

“I’m sorry to say, Glory,” she sniffs, “that under the circumstances you no longer have a job at the campus day care.”

More penance. I take the blow and slide into that familiar cocoon of numbness.

* * *

The next day, after my third crash, after I’ve called my parents and confessed my mistakes, and after Kace calls Mr. Hill, we sit in the kitchen at BMOC House, not eating. Majik tells us that Beau is being released from the hospital, that he’ll be fine. A friend of hers works there. I don’t bother calling myself because the Perinis blame me for everything. Rightly so.

“I hope you don’t mind if I don’t hang around with you in the kitchen wasting time,” Majik gruffs. “I have things to do in the storeroom. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Kace snorts, his face looks like he just came in from a storm, shell-shocked and confused. Me? A blessed numbness has settled back in, a familiar friend I’ve come back to, maybe triggered by my brief shocking conversation with my parents during which I made them cry.

Tim Hill senior and his lawyer, who it turns out is one of the best, are due to arrive in ten minutes. It seems that’s how much time I have to pump life back into the shell I feel like right now, the amount of time I have to start thinking and feeling again.

Kace is quicker to revive himself. He clears his throat.

“You have a problem, Glory. Promise me you’ll keep going to AA with Majik.” His voice is quiet, the thread of hope fragile in his words. His eyes pin me with the desperation of a man hanging onto a cliff with his fingertips.