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I can see her spiraling and I need to do something to stop it.
“No, you won’t lose progress. I’ll make sure that you can keep up with your dance training.”
“How?” she looks at me with tear-filled eyes.
“I’ll hire a physical therapist for home. Hell, I’ll even hire a dance teacher to come to the house and work with you.”
“She can’t put any weight on it,” the doctor repeats. “Not until it heals.”
“Fine, thenafterit heals, I will hire those specialists,” I say as if in stubborn defiance. I lower my head back down to look at my daughter. “Don’t worry Lillybean, whatever progress is lost, we will fix. But you have to rest it and heal first, okay?”
She nods despairingly and then lets her face fall against my chest again as I carry her to the car.
***
The next few weeks aretough. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to help, nothing works and Lilly doesn’t feel any better. I wish Bella was here. Sheneedsher mother.
Since I can’t seem to do anything to make Lilly feel any better while she is recovering at home, I turn my frustration elsewhere. I threaten to sue the school unless they fire that incompetent gym teacher, who—I found out through a Q&A with Lilly, made her climb a rope to the ceiling even though she told him she was afraid and would fall. I also take it out on people at work.
I don’tmeanto be such a jerk to my employees, but I don’t have anyone to bounce off my frustration with. It has to come out somehow, and unfortunately it comes out in the form of me being an asshole to my corporate team both in DC and here in Asheville.
“Seraphine, honestly, can you stop putting this crap all over the meeting notes?” I snap at her as she hands me the dictation from a conference call. “It’s unprofessional and I highly doubt that you can pay attention and take accurate notes when you’re so busy doodling all over them.”
She stares at me for a second before answering as if she is trying to decide how to handle my mood.
“Sorry, I didn’t think it bothered you. Why didn’t you say something about it before?”
“Are you seriously going to question me about this? This is acompany, not an art class. And I am yourboss,not your neighbor when we are inside this building,” I hiss back at her. “The correct answer that you should be giving me is,yes sir.”
I realize that I am being overly harsh about something that doesn’t really matter, but I am not in the mood to look at her cutesy little drawings. Seraphine is taken aback and perhaps that’s a good thing. She should remember her place here and not think that we’refriends—we’re not.
“Is there something wrong?”
Her question catches me by surprise. I’ve just scolded her and she’s trying to see if I’m okay? It would be easier if she just thought I was being a jerk and stayed quiet.
“Everything is fine,” I say as I brush off her concern. I don’t want it. And I don’t want her prying into my personal life. “Just go and get me some more coffee. I need to work late.”
Pouring myself into work has always been my go-to crutch as far as how to handle things. I’ve already done everything that I can do to help Lilly while her ankle is healing but watching how sad she is despite all of it is too much for me to take. I flew in one of the best physical therapists in the country and put them up here in Asheville for a few weeks to work with Lilly. And I hired a private dance instructor to come and work with her at the house in a modified format that will keep the weight off her ankle. None of it is ideal, I realize that, but at least it’s the best care and the best training she can possibly get. Still, I can see the sadness in her eyes, and it kills me.
I need to focus on work, or I’ll lose it, and I can’t afford to lose it because Lilly is depending on me to be there for her.
Chapter Five
Seraphine
I try to steer clear of Chad at work for the rest of the week as much as possible. He isobviouslyin a terrible mood.
At first, after Tori told me about his daughter getting hurt at school, I didn’t quite understand what the big deal was. Granted, no one wants their child to get hurt, but a fractured ankle didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world that could happen. An ankle will heal.
But then she told me a little bit about how much his daughter loves to dance, and I started to put two and two together about the errand that Chad had me run at the dance shop. Things started to make a bit more sense but still didn’t seem devastating enough to warrant how terrible of a mood he’s been in at work. I mean, he lost his wife for God’s sake, so surely, he has a perspective on a broken ankle not being the end of the world.
But in the middle of the week, while Chad is on speakerphone with his door open, I happen to overhear him on a call with his daughter.
Tori and I had already left for the day, and Chad was working late, but I forgot my purse and had to go back inside to grab it. As soon as I step back into the office, I can hear him on the phone.
“I know sweetheart, I’m sorry. I just have a few more things to wrap up at the office and then I’ll be home. Isn’t the physical therapist still with you?” Chad asks. “She was supposed to stay until I got home.”
“Yeah, she’s still here but I’m done with that for today.”
