Page 17 of Doctor Grump

“Come on, Kendy. Don’t do this right now. You said you would behave as long as I got Piper to be your nanny.”

“Yes, but that was only because I didn’t think she would say yes. Not after what you said to her.”

Ouch. Apparently, a thirteen-year-old had more common sense than I did.

“Well, sorry to disappoint you,” I said, shooting Kendy a smile, one she didn’t return. “But unfortunately, I have a much bigger heart than I probably should. Plus, I never quite learned how to hold a grudge. Too much work.”

Kendy didn’t seem to know what to make of my statement, so she huffed and turned around. “I’m going to get my school bag.”

“Piper can drop you off,” Ian said, checking his watch as the girl stopped in her tracks. “I have to be in the office in the next five minutes.”

His daughter’s eyes widened slightly, and I saw a flash of hurt before she shielded it with characteristic teenage indifference and muttered, “Whatever.”

“I’ll send you the address,” Ian continued speaking to me, not having seen his daughter’s expression. “It’s Grey Smithson Middle school. Have you heard of it?”

“Yes, I know where it is, but….” I shook my head. “Are you sure I should take her to school today? I mean, this is all a sudden adjustment. I feel like maybe you should take her today.”

“As I said, I don’t have time,” he stated dismissively. “I have about a thousand fires to put out today. And not to mention a pending lawsuit.”

“Lawsuit?” I asked as he brushed past me, striding toward his car. “From who?”

He turned to me with a straight face and said, “Your family.”

And before I could ask for further clarification, he got in his jeep and took off, speeding out of the parking lot.

My family?Why the hell would they be suing him? Was he serious?

“I’m ready to go,” Kendy said, and I turned to see the girl standing there with a tote bag and nothing else.

“What? No lunch box?” I asked, and she scoffed.

“Lunchbox? I’m not a kid. I don’t need a lunchbox.”

“You don’t have to be a kid to use a lunchbox,” I said. “Unless times have changed since I was your age, I don’t remember middle school lunches being particularly nutritious or delicious. If you have a little time, I could make you something. I know how to pack a mean sandwich.”

The little girl ran her eyes down the length of me and muttered under her breath, “Yeah, I can tell.”

Double ouch. But fortunately, I had received comments like that for most of my life, so at this point, they simply rolled over my head.

Still, it wasn’t a nice thing to say, and I had to set a boundary straight away that I wasn’t here to be the little girl’s punching bag. If not, it would set the tone for our relationship moving forward. Plus, at her age, it was important to nip this mean streak in the bud. Otherwise, she just might grow up thinking it was okay to be an asshole to people just because she was feeling down.

“Ah,” I said, crossing my arms and giving her a stern look. “Is that your way of saying I’m fat?”

Her eyes widened, clearly shocked by the change in tone and the directness of my statement. Then, she blushed, looking away.

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” I said. “I know I could stand to lose a few pounds, but it’s still not a very nice thing to say to someone.”

“I didn’t think you’d hear me,” she muttered.

“Doesn’t make it okay. If I was younger and less secure about my body, a comment like that could have shattered my confidence. Or, at the very least, ruined my whole day. But you know what?” I leaned down until I could make eye contact with her. “What you said didn’t hurt me because I’m okay with who I am.” I shrugged. “Sure, I have a few insecurities here and there, like every other person, but at least I’m confident in knowing that I’m a good person who tries my best to make others around me happy, and I don’t put people down. Because that’s a pretty sad and pathetic thing to do. I mean, hurt people are the ones who hurt people, right?”

Kendy’s face turned even redder, and she shuffled her feet in discomfort. I did nothing to ease the uncomfortable silence that dawned, waiting it out. While I knew the girl was only taking out her anger toward her father on me, I didn’t want her to grow up thinking it was okay for her to be mean to people just because she was mad. And she had to understand that actions had consequences, and when you hurt someone, you should apologize.

The silence stretched, and for a second, I wasn’t sure waiting it out would work. Perhaps, she, like her father, hated apologizing and would simply storm out and throw a tantrum.

But to my surprise, she did me one better. With a heavy sigh, she finally looked me in the eyes and said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be mean. I was…well, I dunno. Sometimes I say mean things, and I’m not sure why.”

“I know, honey,” I said, and on a whim, I reached out and pulled her into a hug. I could sense the shock in her body, but while she didn’t hug me back, neither did she push me away. “And I know you’re upset because of what your dad said.”

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