Page 3 of Promise Me Nothing
I’m finishing up mile six when I pass PHX Municipal Bank, my eyes connecting with the time posted on the sign outside. I curse when I realize I’ve lost track of time and I’m going to be late to pick up Lissy. I pick up the pace, not wanting Lissy left waiting for me out front.
She’s a sweet kid. First grade. Mrs. Schumaker’s class. She has a retainer and pigtails and glasses that are a little too big for her face. She struggles to make friends, but I think she’s pretty amazing.
“I’ve been waiting for you!” she says when I come running up to where she stands next to the school sign – Randolph Woods Elementary School for the Deaf.
I’d laugh if I thought she wouldn’t get mad at me. She’s so cute when she’s angry, her arms crossed, her backpack flung in a heap next to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I was on a run and lost track of time.”
She rolls her eyes, lugs her backpack up and over her shoulder, then blazes down the pathway towards the parking lot, through the massive fence that divides her small school’s property from the public.
The thing about babysitting a deaf child is that when they run – or in this case, storm – away from you, you can’t just yell after them. So, I chase her down and bring her to a stop by standing in front of her.
“I didn’t drive today. We have to walk.”
The look of irritation written on her face could turn me into a pile of ashes. Luckily, I’m pretty familiar with this look, so I just give her a smile and take her backpack.
“I’ll hold this. That way you don’t have to worry about lugging it up the hill.” I sling it over my shoulders, then I crouch down slightly, making sure my face is level with hers, and speak slowly, so she can understand every word. “I really am sorry for not being here on time. You don’t deserve to sit out front and wait. I hope you can forgive me.”
Her brow pinches together and she stays standing with her arms crossed, the cutest look of frustration still covering her face.
Then, finally,reluctantly,her face relaxes and she drops her arms.
“I was worried you forgot me.”
My heart twists, and I nod.
It’s her greatest fear, being forgotten. And it kills me to know that my own stupid mental games with myself made her feel that way.
“I know, Lis. And that’s my fault. Sometimes, adults are imperfect and we run late. And you have every right to be upset.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “But I want to make sure you know that no matter what, I will always be here to pick you up. I would never just leave you here.”
“Even when we move to Mexico?”
Part of me wants to laugh, though I don’t correct her. She’s still learning her states. The other part of me is sad that even at her age, she already understands that our remaining time together is limited. I shake my head and she sighs, slipping her hand into mine as we both turn to start the walk home.
She stays quiet for a little while, but eventually she launches in to a story about Cliffton, a douchebag in her class who always says mean things to her. I know I shouldn’t call a kid a douchebag, but anyone who has had to interact with this Cliffton dick before would probably take my side.
And I can’t help but be fiercely protective of Lissy. I’ve known this pipsqueak since literally the day she was born. Her mom, my roommate Melanie, was one of the only other kids I developed a real relationship with in foster care.
Even after everything I’ve been through over the years, all the different places I bounced around, we’ve always kept a close relationship. And when Melanie’s sister moved to New Mexico and I was aging out of the system, becoming her new roommate and helping out with Lissy was just a natural next step.
Discounted rent to help out with a kiddo that I already loved? Yes times ten.
I started learning to sign when Melanie found out Lissy was deaf, and when Mel is around, we use both sign and vocals to communicate. But when it’s just Lis and me? She hates the attention that signing brings to her, so she asks me to speak to her instead.
Melanie usually gets mad about it, saying that lip reading as opposed to signing is a form of trying to ‘fit in’ that will work to Lissy’s disadvantage long-term.
But I figure what Melanie doesn’t know won’t kill her. And having been the kid that stood out, I know that anything to feel like you ‘fit in’ can make a huge difference.
Once we get home, Lissy forgets all about stupid Cliffton and we spend some time on her homework and practicing new words she’s been learning. Melanie gets home around six o’ clock and the three of us eat dinner together.
“How was work?” I ask her as I finish putting the rice and beans out on the table. “Did you turn in your notice yet?”
Melanie works as the administrator for a health insurance claims company. She hates her job, but feels like she won the lottery with the benefits she gets. I have to agree with her.
Sometimes, you put up with the mundane, frustrating shit because it gives you what you’ve never had.
Consistency.
