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This week has been difficult. Trying to keep it together to teach all of my classes and putting on a brave face for Mom has been exhausting. I have a day off tomorrow; Sundays are always a day to relax, except now my Sundays have a new purpose. I’m going to be going to the hospital again with Mom regularly.
“Mom, are you ready to go? We’re going to be late,” I call up the stairs.
Saturdays are my favorite day in the studio, I get to work in there with Mom.
“Coming, coming,” she replies, bouncing down the stairs. “Are you excited for watching week?”
I open the door and usher her out and into my car before answering her. “I am.”
I’m not. I’m dreading the thought of Izzie and Clayton not turning up, but I’m also dreading the alternative; Tristan’s eyes boring into me while I try to teach.
She doesn’t reply, choosing to let me have my moment as I peel out of the driveway.
The ride to Willow Arts seems quicker than usual; I thought we’d get caught in the mid-morning traffic, but we don’t. We make it in time to open up before Kelsey walks in with her aunt that I met at gallery night.
“Morning, Kelsey, morning, Elaine.”
“Hi, Miss J, hi, Tilly,” Kelsey says, knowing the drill and walking over to the beanbags before lying down on a pink one.
“Morning, where do you want me? Kelsey’s mom couldn’t make it,” Elaine says.
I point over to the beanbags. “You can take a seat with her, or there’s coffee in the kitchen out the back.”
She puts her hands together in a praying gesture, making me chuckle, before walking out into the back room.
More people arrive and I tense up; this is where I’ll find out if Izzie and Clayton have been pulled from the session or not, and if they haven’t, do I need to prepare myself for another run-in with Tristan?
I can’t take my eyes away from the door as all of the kids and parents file in, waiting and watching for two particular faces, but when all except those two are here, I finally relent and start the session.
As I finish talking to the kids and they go off into pairs with their parents trailing behind, the bell on the door chimes and my heart leaps up into my throat. I swallow it down and turn around slowly, ready to come face to face with… Charlotte?
Clayton and Izzie hang up their coats and walk over to me. “Everyone is working in pairs today so you two will have to pair up. If you go and see Tilly, she will let you know what everyone is working on today.”
Izzie’s blue eyes stare up into mine, she’s not as peppy as she usually is and Clayton nods, not saying anything as he walks over to my mom.
Charlotte clears her throat and I turn toward her anxiously; this is the woman who used to despise me being with her son. She made it well known that I wasn’t good enough for him.
“Charlotte, it’s good to see you again. Are you staying for watching week?”
“I wish I could but I have a quick coffee meeting with a client and Tristan’s… well... he deserved a break.” She’s silent for a beat, her gaze flitting over my face before she laughs, something I’ve never heard her do before. “It’s okay, Harmony, you don’t have to pretend you don’t still think I’m a wicked witch.”
I could think of more colorful things to call her. The confusion clouds my mind and I stammer over my words. “I—well, I...”
Her lilting, carefree laugh sounds out again before it dies down and she looks at me more seriously. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you last weekend, I hope you’re feeling better?” I nod and she continues. “Good. I won’t keep you much longer, but the kids, they’re... not themselves today. I won’t bore you with the details, but I thought I should let you know.”
“Thank you,” I reply, my anxiousness at talking to Charlotte being replaced with worry. “And please, if there’s anything I can do, let me know and I’ll do it.”
She pats my hand and I look down at it like she’s burned me. “I have no doubt about that, but that won’t be necessary. Treat them like you normally would, it’ll be good to give them a sense of normality. I’ll be back to pick them up soon.”
She doesn’t wait for a reply as she takes one last look at Clayton and Izzie before she walks out of the front doors.
I can’t control my feet, they move in their direction before my head even clicks on that that’s exactly where I’m going. “Hey, guys. How are you getting on with your dream boards?” I ask them. The A5 card in front of them is blank and I frown down at it. “Do you need some help?”
Clayton shakes his head and looks around at the other parents with a frown on his face. “No.”
“Are you sure? I could help you come up with some ideas.”
He jumps down off his stool without saying another word as he drags his feet along the floor toward the beanbags. I watch as he pulls a book off the shelf I’ve put in purposely for him, and flops down into a beanbag.
