Page 17 of The Write Off

“We’re really short staffed today. I won’t be able to get out of here until at least eight o’clock. I know your mom was planning to take them, but…”

She doesn’t bother to finish the sentence, but she doesn’t need to. Everything happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to process the implications of the kids being ill. There is no way my parents will take them.

“They can hang out here for as long as you need,” I say, meaning it.

“Are you sure? You’ve had them all day.”

“Of course I’m sure. Besides, I’m not even sure they could leave if they tried. They might be permanently attached to my sofa.” Travis rolls his eyes at my lame attempt at a joke, but Anna giggles. “I’ll let mother know about the change in plans.”

We talk for another minute and I promise to update her if there is any more vomiting or their fevers get worse. I end the call and give the kids their medicine right away.

“It looks like you’re stuck with me tonight,” I tell them. They both brighten.

“We don’t have to go to Grandma’s?” My niece looks so happy, you’d never know she’d just expelled her lunch all over me. It’s sad, really. They’d rather be sick than spend time with their grandparents, but I honestly can’t blame them.

“Don’t you have to work?” Travis asks. He’s lying down now stretched out on his side of the couch, his feet reaching the back of his sister’s legs.

Shit. Rilla.

I immediately pull up my phone to text her. “It’s fine. I’ll catch up on work tomorrow. Tonight, we’ll lay low.” And attempt to keep the food we’re digesting in our stomachs where it belongs. “We could rent that superhero movie you’ve been talking about? Crossing The Universe?”

“Across the Spider-Verse!” They yell in unison, as if that sentence makes sense.

I stare at the phone in my hands trying to formulate a sincere apology to Rilla. I dislike corresponding through text and emails. I was taught to always keep my messages clear and professional to avoid any kind of miscommunication.

Me: Rilla, due to unforeseen circumstances, I regret to inform you that I will not be able to meet with you this evening as previously agreed upon. I apologize for any inconvenience that this causes. Please let me know your availability and we will reschedule as soon as possible. Best, Logan

As my thumbs are typing the last few letters of my text, an incoming call banner appears at the top of my screen and my shoulders stiffen as if bracing for some kind of impending impact.

“Hello, Mother.” I leave the kids to their lounging and walk to the kitchen for more privacy.

“Logan, I’m calling to ensure that you’ll be dropping off the children promptly at six o’clock. Your father has made dinner reservations at The Club for seven and you know how we both abhor lateness.”

I manage to refrain from reminding her that the children go to bed at eight p.m. “I was just about to call you, Mother. Travis and Anna are a bit under the weather today.”

Her silence speaks volumes. It fills the air, somehow drowning out the cartoon that’s still playing on the television. My mother is not affectionate in idyllic circumstances.

“What do you mean ‘under the weather?’”

I sigh. “They have some sort of stomach virus.” I register her gasp, but continue to talk over it. “I’m sure they’ll both feel better after a good night’s sleep.”

“You know they contracted it at that sorry excuse for a school. If they went to Brownings, this wouldn’t be happening.”

I’m quite certain viruses don’t care how much property taxes people pay, but I keep this thought to myself. I also don’t mention that I occasionally got sick while attending that school. When my brother and I were ill during childhood, we were confined to our rooms until we were better.

“Well, they obviously can’t come here. I’m not risking whatever germs they have aggravating your father’s condition.” My father has extremely high blood pressure. He’s also a complete asshole, although, to the best of my knowledge, that’s still untreatable.

“Of course, Mother. They’ll stay here until Shannon can pick them up.”

“Come to think of it, it’s likely her fault they’re ill. The way that woman is always choosing to hang around hospitals instead of taking care of my grandchildren…”

“That woman is their mother. And she’s not hanging around hospitals, she works at one.” The irony of my mother criticizing Shannon’s parenting in the same breath as refusing to care for Travis and Anna is not lost on me. “I’m sorry, Mother. I hope you and father have a pleasant evening.”

“We’ll attempt to. Although it’s very inconvenient to have our plans altered on such short notice. Why don’t you join us instead? We haven’t seen you since Christmas.”

Seriously?

“Because I’ll be taking care of the children, Mother.”

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