“But I have to,” I explained. “If I drop one ball, everything falls apart. I’m tired and cranky and anxious all the time.” A hiccup escaped me. “I love them so much, but I’m a terrible mother. I’m destroying their childhood.”
She stood abruptly and rounded her desk. Sitting next to me, she squeezed my hand like this wasn’t the first time she’d seen a breakdown like this here. “You’re doing too much.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“You do,” she urged. “You just haven’t learned to accept help yet. But you will.”
I laughed, my nose still running. “Bullshit.”
When I looked over at her, she was smiling, and that only made me laugh more. I was having an honest-to-Godbreakdown in my boss’s office. Excellent work. A-fucking-plus, Celine.
She took a deep breath and squeezed my hand again. “You got yourself and three kids out. I don’t know many details, but what I do know tells me how brave and capable you are.”
I swallowed thickly, emotion clogging my throat. Yes, Callie knew some hazy details. My ex-husband’s rap sheet was public record, and she knew I’d taken many years off from teaching. I’d filled in a few blanks as vaguely as I could when I interviewed, and she hadn’t pushed much.
But like most teachers, she was perceptive. Maybe more perceptive than I’d realized.
“You moved states. You went back to work and got a job so you could provide for your kids. You’ve kept everyone alive while also meeting their complex needs. That’s not failure. That’s hero-level exhaustion.”
I wiped my face. “Ellie’s sick, and I left her home alone.”
Head tilted, she remained silent, like she knew that wasn’t the full story.
“Josh has been checking on her,” I admitted. “She’s making him run around for soup and trying to blackmail him into sharing his Netflix password.”
She broke into a wide smile. “Then she’s on the mend.” With a chuckle, she shook her head.
I sniffled, blotting my nose with a clean tissue. “I feel so guilty.”
“Don’t. Kids get sick, and she’s old enough to take care of herself in these situations. On top of that, you’ve got a trustworthy person checking on her. That’s called problem-solving.”
My phone buzzed, on cue, and a notification appeared, alerting me to a new text from Josh.
This time it was a photo of Ellie, sprawled out on my couch, a bottle of red Gatorade next to her that Josh must have given her, and Wayne snuggled into her side.
Damn, the dog was as long as she was. I couldn’t help but giggle at the image.
Callie leaned over. “See? That’s community. That’s help. Ask for it. Come in here and vent. I’ll help. Ask Josh to bring your kid soup,” she commanded. “Come in late or take your PTO, hire a babysitter and give yourself breaks. This town is filled with people willing to help. But you’ve got to be willing to ask.”
Later that afternoon, as I herded small humans toward backpacks and bus lines, I caught myself smiling. The day had brightened considerably since my meltdown.
I’d accepted help. It hadn’t cost me anything, and I wouldn’t be punished or shamed.
Phyllis had tried to ruin my day. But she hadn’t.
It was okay.
I was okay.
And that felt like progress.
Chapter 15
Josh
The last thing I needed was more bullshit to deal with today. My list was a mile long and growing, thanks to the raccoons that had caused damage to one of the tubing junctions.
I could feel it. This day was already going off the rails.