Page 99 of Ruin The Friendship
Me
Helping Hands
Everyone’s really nice, but something about it isn’t clicking.
Maybe it’s because I’m scared to leave her with someone else and she’s not even born yet.
I’m ridiculous. Ignore me. I’ll be home soon.
The daycare owner, Tina, who has been giving me a tour, says something, but I don’t catch it.
I put my phone in my pocket and offer her a smile. “I’m sorry. What was that?”
“We have a slot available starting in August.” Her voice is firm but informative as she directs me down the hall toward the infant area. “Drop-off starts at seven, and pickup is at five-thirty. Any later and you incur a late fee.”
There are still quite a few kids here, and the place is full of laughter and joy. I can’t quite place what feels off. I don’t think it has anything to do with the people or the way they run things. It’s a me problem.
The thought of leaving my daughter with near strangers every day is enough to give me hives. She’s not even here yet. What am I going to do when she’s born, and I have to go back to work? I can’t afford to be a stay-at-home mom, though it sounds more appealing now than it did when I first found out I was pregnant. I love my job, I do, but maybe I could look into going part-time, at least for a while. But then would I lose my health insurance? Ugh.
I’m barely listening to Tina as she talks about how each room is separated by age, and they have a certain number of caregivers per room. My phone buzzes in my pocket, surely Fletcher.
We continue the tour, and with each passing minute, my skin grows clammy and my heart pounds harder. Whydid I do this alone? Fletcher surely would have come with me if I’d asked.
I press my hand to my stomach, where the soft flutter of my baby girl kicking helps calm me momentarily. She’s been doing that more often. The first few times freaked me out, but now, I’m constantly hoping she will flutter to remind me of the life inside me, and of my future.
“Sorry, what was that?” Tina says into her walkie-talkie. “Oh, really?”
I turn my attention to her, realizing again that I wasn’t listening.
“Your partner is here.” Tina looks at me with a look of confusion.
“My partner?”Holy crap, did Fletcher drive over here?“Fletcher?”
“That’s what he says his name is. He’s at the front desk. Said he was sorry for being late.”
I pull something out of thin air. “Oh, he must have gotten off work early. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize he was going to make it.”
If she sees through me, she doesn’t say anything, although I do sense a hint of irritation from her.
“We don’t have to start the tour over. We can just continue with him.”
“Perfect. We have pickups starting soon,” Tina says abruptly, turning on her heel to head down the hall toward the lobby.
When we enter the lobby, all the tightness in my chest eases as soon as he’s in view. He’s wearing a Minnesota Blue Herons ball cap, his branded sweatshirt with his number on it, and a pair of running pants. He must have come straight from practice because the ends of his hair are wet.
“Fletcher,” I say.
He strides over, holding his hand out for me. I take it gratefully, already feeling better with him here.
He squeezes my hand tightly and shakes Tina’s hand with his free one. “Nice to meet you. I’m Fletcher Graff, Lydia’s partner.”
Tina looks him up and down, nodding carefully. I do my best to ignore the little thrill I get from him calling me his partner.
“Yes, well, we only have a few minutes, so let’s continue.” She waves us down the hall, walking fast.
“What are you doing here?” I mutter under my breath so only Fletcher hears.
“You needed me. You were spiraling.” Fletcher looks around the room we’ve just entered.
