Page 19 of Twisted Fate

“Really, bro? You have to ask?” Blaine scoffed.

“Only the movie we’ve been waiting over a year to see!” Garrett replied. My gaze bounced between my friends as they each chimed in, voicing their disapproval.

Then I remembered; the latest in a series of superhero movies released tonight. We’d watched every single one of them on opening night, and they weren’t about to let me miss this one.

“Okay, okay, come in.” I stepped aside and let them into the foyer. “Let me get changed.” Five minutes later, I was in the passenger side of Donny’s SUV wearing a graphic t-shirt with all the characters from the movie and a pair of jeans. My clothes were a little looser on me than they had been last year when we watched another film in the franchise. I made a note to start eating better. It wasn’t hard to do when Lilah was around. She always ensured there was something healthy on our table and made enough for leftovers.

Shaking away thoughts of my daughter’s nanny, I listened to the guys talk about their jobs, how their week went, and what was going on in their lives. I didn’t contribute much, but it was nice to feel some semblance of normalcy for once. And for the first time in five months, I didn't feel like my world was imploding on top of me.

18

Delilah

Vance seemed refreshed and almost… chipper when I showed up Monday morning. His smile was still absent, but the tightness around his eyes and shoulders had eased. Perhaps the plan Darla and I hatched Friday evening had been a success.

After our conversation about Vance not living his life, I set aside my hurt feelings and decided to do something about it. Darla contacted Vivian, who gave us the names and numbers of three of Vance’s closest friends. Darla only had to call one of them, Donny and he took care of the rest. By the looks of things, it worked.

Trepidation flickered in his gaze as he slid a cup of coffee across the table to me. He wasn’t in his usual rush to get out of the house, and that made me nervous.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Charlie going to therapy.”

I nearly choked on the sip of coffee I’d just taken and hastily set my cup down to avoid spilling it. He must’ve seen the shock and confusion on my face.

“Darla told me she let it slip. And it’s not a big deal,” he added hurriedly. “I hadn’t intentionally kept that from you. I just forgot to mention it.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him, even though in my heart, it felt anything but.

“You’re a big part of her life,” he continued, surprising me yet again. “You are with her more than anyone other than myself. You’re her caregiver and teacher. You should be aware of what is going on in her life, especially when it can affect her learning and relationships.” Part of me rejoiced at his inclusion of me as an important entity in Charlie’s life. But on the other hand, I’d been reduced to merely her nanny, effectively putting me back in my place. I was sure that wasn’t his intention, but it still felt like he was placing that barrier between us; the one that reminded me that I was simply the help. I was an outside entity hired to teach her and take care of her, and that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Unable to form words, I simply nodded. What else could I do? I couldn’t exactly be mad at him. He was doing what was right for his daughter and hadn’t purposefully kept me in the dark. I lifted my cup to my lips, focusing on my coffee so I wouldn’t have to look at him.

“I also wanted to thank you.” My gaze snapped to his, my curiosity piqued. “Darla mentioned it was your idea to contact my friends and have them accost me in my home.” The corner of his lips quirked into an almost smile. “I needed that. It was nice to get out of the house.”

“What did you guys do?”

“We went to the movies.” He told me about the film he and his friends had been waiting a year to see. They’d gone to the late showing then grabbed a drink at a sports bar they used to frequent.

“The next day, they dragged me out again for a game of golf and dinner at the clubhouse.”

“That’s amazing.” I didn’t know what else to say. His friends managed to take him out twice in one weekend, and he seemed to have enjoyed himself. “I’m so glad you were able to do that.”

“I have you to thank. And Darla,” he added, not wanting to leave out the person who made it happen.

“You’re welcome.” I wanted to push, to ask him to do more things, make plans with his friends, but I thought better of it. Baby steps.

“Charlie’s first therapy session is tomorrow,” he announced as he rinsed out his mug. “I’ll let you know how it goes.” It might not have seemed like a big deal to most, but it felt like it to me. He was including me in things in Charlie’s life that didn’t directly relate to me being her nanny. It felt like a turning point in our relationship and the dynamic between the three of us.

True to his word, I got a rundown of Charlie’s appointment Wednesday morning. She was engaging in play therapy to help her with her grief and to give her the tools she needed to interact with other children. According to Vance, their first session went as well as could be expected considering it was all new to her, but he seemed optimistic. He was given several handouts containing information about therapy and tools to use at home. I’d taken some child psychology classes in college, but this was more in depth than what I’d learned and would be a helpful tool not only for when I was with Charlie, but also for when I one day taught a class of my own.

Sadness welled up inside me at that thought. One day, my time as Charlie’s nanny would be over, and I’d move on to bigger things. I just hoped I never had to move on fromher. She was part of my life now, and I’d never be able to give her up a second time.

* * *

Our playdatethat afternoon didn’t go as smoothly as the first. It was rainy, so we opted for the children’s museum instead of the park. Charlie’s friend, Gracie, and her mom, Kelly, met us there after lunch. The girls explored and played for a little while, but soon a squabble over a toy ensued, and they had to be separated. It took a long time to get Charlie calmed down and to get her to understand she had to take turns. She accused Gracie of stealing her toy and keeping it forever. In her three-and-half-year-old mind, a few minutes was an eternity. She finally relented and let her friend play uninterrupted, but when it was her turn again, she snatched the toy and took off running with it. I had to run after her to ensure she didn’t escape. I didn’t know how far she would go and didn’t want to risk her getting outside the building or someone taking her. My heart was pounding by the time I caught up with her and scooped her into my arms.

“Charlie, you can’t do that. You could get hurt,” I reprimanded, holding her close to me, my fear slowly subsiding. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“You mean like what happened to my mommy?” I mentally kicked myself for inadvertently instilling my fears into her.

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