Page 19 of Ruthless Serenade

Take a chill pill, Mindy!

You’re being an overthinker again!

It’s true. I do think way too much and it hasn’t served me once. I take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm my nerves.But I can’t help feeling like I’m walking into a storm, unprepared and vulnerable. With each step I take, my worry grows. I’ve always known Sharon was different, more sensitive than other kids. But I thought we were managing, and that everything is under control.

As I reach Mrs. West’s door, I pause for a second, letting my hand hover over the knob. Whatever’s waiting for me on the other side, I have to face it and be strong. For Sharon. For us.

I take one last steadying breath before I knock on the door, preparing myself for whatever comes next.

Chapter Seven

Mindy

Mrs. West, the school director, welcomes me with a warm smile as I enter her office.

"Miss Williams," she says from behind her desk. "Please, take a seat."

Mrs. West is a woman in her middle years with respect and professionalism etched into her features. Even her attire is professional, as it should be for someone in her position. She’s wearing a smart black suit and a crisp white blouse. Her desk looks clean and organized, the total opposite of my own desk, back at the office.

My nerves are on fire and my anxiety is through the roof. When the school principal demands my presence in her office at six in the afternoon, it can’t mean anything good.

My mind races with worst-case scenarios.

Sharon will be kicked out of school, and I’ll have to find another one for her. That means I’ll have to change the logistics of getting her to school every morning and picking her up in the afternoon. Unless I pay someone to do it, which I can’t afford. Not to mention that Sharon would need to adjust again to the new environment. I really don’t want to put her through all of that.

"I wanted to discuss Sharon with you, Miss Williams," Mrs. West begins, her tone gentle but firm.

I gulp. "Miss Evans mentioned that she had a tough day today," I say gingerly.

"She did, indeed," Mrs. West confirms. "But the reason I asked you to come and talk to me is…" For a moment, she seems like she’s looking for the right words." Well, it's something more… serious."

My heart skips a beat.

"But before we get to that, can you tell me about your family situation, Miss Williams?"

The question catches me off guard. What is it that she wants me to tell her? Do I tell her about the stress that comes with being a working single mom? What it’s like to work full-time in New York City and raise a daughter at the same time? Do I tell her that my daughter is growing up without her father because he got shot before she was even born? Or the overwhelming longing I still have for Maron Korolev after all this time?

"Look, Mrs. West, I'm a single mom," I tell her, pushing aside the thoughts invading my mind. "It's just me and Sharon." My voice catches slightly as I continue, "I know she needs more attention than other kids, but I commute every day and work full time. And as I’m sure you know, raising a child in New York is no walk in the park. Especially without a father."

I pause, swallowing a lump in my throat. Mrs. West must sense the emotion in my voice, because she responds with an empathetic look.

"I love my daughter more than anything and I’m trying my best." I meet Mrs. West’s eyes.

Mrs. West’s face softens, and she nods slowly. "I appreciate your honesty, Miss Williams. Your situation helps provide context for what we’re seeing with Sharon." She pauses, allowing her words to sink in. "I’m sure Miss Evans told you what happened today, which is why I wanted to talk to you."

My heart rate picks up again. "All she mentioned was that she had a difficult day. Is there something else I should know?"

Mrs. West folds her hands on the desk, her expression turning more serious. "Let me put things in context for you, Miss Williams. Some of the other students have been calling Sharon names, apparently because she doesn’t have a father. Can you tell me something about him?"

Shit.

Calling her names?

Because she doesn’t have a father?

Suddenly, my palm itches at the thought of wanting to slap those other students. Then, my mind drifts to Sharon’s questions about her dad last night. My heart sinks.

"Sharon’s father is not in our lives," I tell Mrs. West, carefully hiding the emotion in my voice. "She does ask about him, though. I told her he's with the angels… which is the truth." I admit quietly.

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