Page 33 of The Ones We Fight For

“Hey. Youare never a burden. Never. You hear me? Neither are your siblings.” The rising tide of failure washed over Walker again. It was overwhelming, the sensation that no one thought he could do this, that none of his nieces and nephews trusted him enough to tell him exactly what they were dealing with. Here he was, caring about inconsequential things like whether or not Talia was going to read his ridiculous books while everyone around him was in pain. No wonder they didn’t deem him good enough.

“And why exactly did you trust an eight-year-old to deliver this information to their guardian?” Talia’s question landed on both the teacher and the principal.

“I was going to call him today when I didn’t hear back!” Mrs. Rensie defended herself. “I tried calling, but the number we had on file was disconnected. I sent an email, too, but it bounced back, and then I realized I only had his parents’ phone number and email, and—”

“You tried to call and send an email to my dead brother and sister-in-law?” Walker let out a puff of laughter in disbelief.

“My list was apparently not updated. When I realized that, I requested the updated contact info from the office. I was trying to get the word out to you! I promise.” Mrs. Rensie looked like she was about to break into tears, so Walker didn’t say anything further. Educators always had way too much on their plates to be able to keep track of everything, and if he’d been diligent enough, he would have given her his contact info in person.

“My daughter took care of it for you,” Amala said with slight pride.

“Took care of it? She punched Camden!” Camden’s mom shouted.

“And maybe he finally learned his lesson,” Walker bit off.

“Okay, okay,” Principal Steward said in the most soothing voice possible. “I can’t condone corporal punishment for children, nor can I condone continual harassment. Both Jayla and Camden are suspended from school for two weeks. I take full credit for the office staff not properly updating the records so that Mrs. Rensie could contact you, Mr. Hartrick.”

“Jayla shouldn’t be punished at all,” Walker stated plainly, turning toward Roscoe and Amala. “This is my fault. I’m so sorry.”

“No.” Amala shook her head sadly. “I was planning on discussing it this morning with you, but I thought you already knew, and then…”

Amala’s voice trailed off as the one inside Walker’s head grew louder and more bitter. Great, even Amala is at a loss for words. “I thought you already knew.” Right, because you should have known. Try being aware of the stuff going on with the kids you’re in charge of for once, Walker.

“It’s fine. It’s my fault,” Walker repeated, brushing Amala off as he crouched down to Cooper again. “Do you want to go home?’

“No, I’m all right.” Cooper gave a half-hearted smile. “Sorry, Uncle Walker.”

“None of this is on you. You go back to class with Mrs. Rensie, and I'll deal with this further.”

“Here.” Talia stepped forward with a slip of paper that looked like it had been torn from the planner she kept in her purse, handing it to Cooper’s teacher. “It’s Mr. Hartrick’s phone number and email address.”

“You have my email address?” Walker stood up and looked at Talia curiously.

Talia bit her bottom lip and nodded. “You gave it to me this morning.”

The morning felt like eons ago by now, but Walker vaguely remembered her sending him a link to her Spotify punk rock playlist. The recollection only aided in souring his mood further, because of course he could remember to enjoy music but forget to use his email to communicate with teachers like a responsible adult.

“Is there anyone else I can put on file as a backup emergency contact?” Mrs. Rensie asked, picking up a pen off the principal’s desk. “I will personally make sure everything is updated.”

Right. A backup, for when she can’t get ahold of you. Because you’re unreliable.

“It’s just me,” Walker swallowed. The gravity of the statement pulled his eyes to the floor as the sharp sting of salt hit his nose. He tilted his face away from his nephew and dug his fingernails into the palms of his hand in an attempt to drive away the tears that wanted to prick his eyes.

“Wait, Walker, I can…” Talia set her hand on his shoulder again, and he looked over at her with what he was sure was the most pathetic expression he could ever wear. There was no pretending he was in control of anything anymore. He wasn’t. Cole and Paisley would be disappointed, and everyone knew it. The most he could do now was hide his reaction well enough so Cooper couldn’t see. “I’ll be the secondary contact.”

Talia reached down to lace her fingers in his. Walker let her, feeling like at any moment if he didn’t have her support he was going to faceplant on the ground, which would do nothing to assure Cooper he could tell him anything in the future.

“Put Amala and me down as an option, too.” Roscoe raised his hand. Mrs. Rensie scrawled notes on the paper and took Talia’s information while Walker stayed silent, everyone else having to pick up his slack. He needed an actual list, not an invisible one in his head. A list of things he had already forgotten and couldn’t forget ever again. A list of things he needed to know so he would never make the same mistake twice. A list of things created by someone better than him.

Drive to each of their schools and make sure everyone has your contact info. Check in with each of their teachers. Go grocery shopping. Pick up more tampons and pads. Double-and triple-check on everyone’s therapy apointments. See if you can get them in a little earlier. Go grocery shopping (again). Verify all the bills for the house are paid. Visit Cole and Paisley’s grave to beg for forgivenes for being such a fuck-up.

When Cooper and Mrs. Rensie left the room, Walker felt lightheaded, tormented by his own self-deprecating thoughts. He turned toward the bully’s mom and tried to think of something to say that would prevent this from happening in the future, but, as usual, he came up empty-handed. The fog of unease settled further over him, and he bolted for the door before the walls could close in completely.

“He’s going through a lot right now with his dad,” Camden’s mom shouted after Walker. “I’m sorry.”

Ignoring her was the only thing he could think to do. He couldn’t spare a thought for anyone else’s issues when he couldn’t even handle his own. At this point, it wasn’t even Camden’ fault. Cooper hadn’t been his usual self since his parents died, and it was glaringly obvious that he didn’t feel comfortable enough to share his struggles.

Screw old girlfriends who don’t respond to Cooper’s constant questions. It’s you. The light is going out in him, and you’re the problem.

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