Page 63 of One Golden Ring
Now that my anger is fading, I realize I’m defenseless. A lead weight slowly crushes me alive at the sight of her sad eyes.
I want to hold her close. I want to kiss her fingers, her hands, her tearstained cheeks. I want to whisper to her that she’ll never cry again, not if I can help it.
J.B. starts telling Darcy about all her favorite weird little shops in the village and Darcy nods and asks a ton of follow-up questions. She’s very cleverly getting a sort of wishlist out of my daughter without being too obvious.
I’d be impressed if I weren’t drowning in my own wasted love.
An hourlater we’re in the SUV winding our way down the mountain.
J.B. is in the back seat with her headphones on, head nodding to the beat of whatever music she’s listening to.
Darcy sits quietly beside me, her eyes on the view out the window.
It’s going to be a beautiful day for shopping. The weatherman is calling for light flurries. It’s my favorite kind of weather for walking in town. A touch of snow always makes the browns and grays of a Pennsylvaniawinter feel more cheerful, but heavy snow is no fun to walk in.
I just wish I could be in the right mood to enjoy it.
Darcy peeks over her shoulder to the back seat and nods once at J.B. before turning to me.
“She needs you to listen,” she tells me quietly.
I glance at the rearview mirror, but J.B. is paying us no attention whatsoever. She’s definitely got music on, and those are the best noise-canceling headphones money can buy. She probably couldn’t hear a marching band right now.
“I do listen,” I say. “But what was I supposed to say to all that talk about you and me…?” I trail off. I can’t even repeat what J.B. was talking about without risking Darcy hearing the longing in my voice.
“You were supposed to direct the conversation back to her,” Darcy says. “She’s unhappy at school.”
“It’s an adjustment period,” I tell her. “It’s normal.”
At least that’s what they told us in the parent orientation video conference. I can still hear it all in my head.
Your kids will have an adjustment period. It’s natural to feel homesick. In time they will make friends, engage in classroom projects, and before you know it they won’t even want to come home for break.
That last statement put fear in my chest at the time, but I stuck to my convictions and sent her away to school because I knew it was best for her. I hope I’ll always be able to put her needs first.
“It seems like maybe it’s more than that,” Darcy says carefully. “She’s been at school since the last week of August. It’s December, Derek. Something’s not right.”
I take that in for a second before glancing in the rearview mirror again.
My daughter’s eyes are fixed on the window. She isn’t nodding to the beat anymore, but she’s a million miles away.
Suddenly I start noticing little things—her pale skin, the shadow of her cheekbone. I thought maybe she’d had another growth spurt. But what if she’s been so unhappy that she hasn’t been eating enough?
And why did she change her name? She was always so proud of it before. Her mom was obsessed with Judy Blume books growing up and she shared that love with our daughter. Is it just natural for a teen to want to make their name cooler or is this something to do with school?
Is she being bullied?
Is she scared to tell me?
“You’re getting it now, right?” Darcy says softly. “I think she’s ready to talk to you about it when you’re ready to listen. It took guts for her to mention this to you today. She knows how proud you are of her for going to that school.”
“You think I should let her come home?” I hear myself ask.
“You’re her father,” Darcy says firmly. “I think you should talk to her and decide together once you know what’s going on.”
“I didn’t have opportunities like that when I was her age,” I say automatically. “I would have done anything to go to that school. And I was an educator, Darcy. I know the value of a place like that.”
Darcy nods and keeps her mouth shut.
