Page 7 of Rectify

“Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes, Sasha. I know you.”

I occupy myself with the coffee machine, avoiding her stare as I resign to telling her the truth. “I’m staying back tonight. I'll make it work.”

“Unless you're going to kick a family out, I don't know how.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Why are you so hell-bent on it anyway?” she insists. “We turn dozens of families away every couple of months.”

With the hot cup settled between my palms, I turn to face her. “Some people just need a little help.”

“Did she say anything?” she asks me pointedly. “Because I know you have a soft spot for those sob stories.”

I roll my eyes and ignore what’s meant to be an insult, even if she’s right. “It was what she didn't say.” She looked tired and confused. Like she needed a minute to think, or to plan, and the thought of doing that with Lily around all the time was impossible.

“Whatever, Mother Teresa, you stay here all night working on the impossible, while I enjoy leaving early, and tangling up with my girlfriend on the couch.”

“If I can’t make it work, I won't,” I reassure her. “I just feel like I need to try.”

Her shoulders rise in a soft and sympathetic shrug. “You know I trust you, but you don’t owe that lady anything other than putting them on the waiting list.”

“You know I can’t help it.”

“I do, but you do enough already, Sasha.” Her voice turns soft, her earlier frustration disappearing. “You give up any spare time you have and offer help to the young pregnant girls at the local high school.”

“This isn’t that.”

“Don’t get technical, you know what I mean,” she says sternly. “I don’t know who you’re trying to save, Sasha, but it’s impossible to help everyone.”

“I have the means and the time, there’s no crime in putting it all to good.”

“There isn’t, but don’t get too carried away at the expense of everything you’ve worked so hard to build.”

I nod in understanding and wait for her to head out back to the main floor. I know she means well, but it’s been this way forever; see people struggling trying to juggle parenthood and the rest of their lives and I feel compelled to help. If I can provide even one person the support system that my mum gave me, then I want to. Sometimes it’s an impossible task, and other times I have everything to change someone’s life at my fingertips.

Those times are my favourite.

2

Jay

“Are you going to wear that look of disgust on your face every time you walk through the front door?” Max’s voice from the kitchen has me biting my tongue, hard, forcing back the snarky retort I usually grace her with. Instead I ignore her and go search for Lily. She's sitting in her room, the only place in this godforsaken house I’ve even bothered to make feel like a home, flicking through her favourite books.

“Hey, Lilypad.” Her head snaps up at the sound of my voice, and I wait for my favourite expression to grace her face.

“Daddy,” she calls out, holding her hands up in the air for me to take her. Invading her space, I choose to sit beside her on the plush light grey carpet, and hoist her into my lap.

“How’s my girl?” She hands me a book I haven’t seen before. “What’s this?”

“Present,” she utters with a lisp.

“From Max?” I ask. She shakes her head but doesn’t clarify. “Where’s it from?”

“School. School. School,” she chants.

Rising with her in my arms, I head back to the kitchen to Max. “What is she talking about?”

“I don’t know,” she responds nonchalantly while slicing up fruit for Lily. “She’s three, she’s always babbling about something.”

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