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“Addison?” That sharp edge to her voice is back, and suddenly I’m the child being scolded by a grown-up for something I never even did. “Who is watching the recently displaced autistic child while the barman is at work?”
“Me.” My voice is barely a whisper, but she’s most definitely heard me, because her laughter echoes through the speakers.
It’s for Matthew.
“Someone left you with their child? Like... by choice? Did you tell them you almost drowned the neighbor kid when he was a toddler?” The vitriol in her voice slides under my skin like a thousand needles as tears fill my eyes.
“It was an accident.”
“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if anyone but you had been watching him, Adi.”
No amount of channeling my therapist telling me that her words are untrue is helping to drown out their noise. Gripping the edge of the countertop, I sag under the weight of her accusation.
People make mistakes all the time.
People make mistakes all the fucking time.
And yes, I made another one upstairs when I went into the other room to get Matthew’s pjs out of the drawer, but it reallywasan accident. He seemed okay. Until he wasn’t.
My brain is spiraling into a dark space. Calling Sarah for help was a bad idea. I should know by now that she’s only ever made me feel worse about myself. This time was destined to be no different. I need to talk to my therapist about drawing some boundaries with my family, especially my mean-girl sister. It shouldn’t be this painful to talk to family.
Tears stream down my cheeks, probably dragging my mascara along with them. I couldn’t find the good mascara in the boxes marked “personal care” before I left Kenzie and Austin’s garage to make my way across town to Thor’s house. I left almost everything I own at their house, furniture included. You’d think there wouldn’t be much by way of bathroom stuff, but apparently the majority of my crap is labeled bathroom. Turns out I have a lot of hair shit.
“Sarah, this isn’t about me. It’s about Matthew. He hit his head and—”
“Oh, Adi, no. How long have you worked with this child?”
“Today is my first day.” Shame crawls over my entire body, eating away at my skin like poison.
“And he hit his head? Where were you?”
“Getting his pjs from his bedroom.”
“What did he hit his head on?”
“The bathroom cabinet over the sink.”
“Is it bad?”
I don’t know, he wouldn’t let me see it. He covered his face as blood trickled through his fingers and screamed murder. So yeah, I’m going to guess it’s bad, but I’m not telling her that. Plus, Google said that head wounds bleed a lot and are often far more dramatic than they seem at first.
“Adi, why the hell would you get yourself into this situation? I’m guessing you were fired, but come on. You know you’re not cut out to be around kids. It never ends well.”
She’s not wrong. My stomach is tangled in so many knots it feels like I might puke over the freshly washed dishes drying on the drying rack.
“I just wanted some advice Sarah. On how best to help Matthew. This isn’t about me, it’s about him.”
“Oh, it’s most definitely about you, Addis—”
Her voice cuts off mid-sentence. Thor’s hand is on my phone, hanging up the call. “Fuck that noise.”
Spinning to face him, I almost lose my breath. He’s shirtless.
“Sorry.” He walks around me to the laundry room, where he emerges with a fresh shirt in his hands. “Got blood on the other one.”
He pulls the shirt over his head. “But again, I say: fuck that noise.”
He reaches around me, snagging a Kleenex from the windowsill right over the sink. Dabbing the tissue on my cheeks, he wipes my tears. “It’s very tempting to leave you like this. You’re so beautiful with tear streaked cheeks. But it’s giving me inappropriate thoughts right now.”
