to you?” Jill asked, playing dumb.
“Yes,” Cassie snapped. “And I’m not going to turn it down. It’s my house.”
“Oh, I wasn’t going to ask you to turn it down,” Jill replied. “I was just going to make sure your father took you to an audiologist as soon as possible to get you a hearing aid. I know kids often don’t like wearing them, but you have long hair and it will cover it up.” She smiled sweetly and returned to the kitchen to start dinner.
And when the lemonade hit Cassie, as Jill knew it would, and she went to the bathroom, Jill took the cord that connected the cable box and the television set and hid it in the dryer, confident that Cassie was not going to be doing any chores and therefore wouldn’t find it in there.
“What did you do to the TV?” Cassie asked when she returned, angry.
“It just stopped working,” Jill replied.
“Really,” Cassie said, unconvinced and impatient. “I go to the bathroom for two seconds and the television stops working in that improbable window of time?”
“Good use of the word improbable !” Jill said. “I’m impressed! Have you been studying probability in math or science?”
“Why are you here, anyway?” Cassie asked. “Dad says you’re a nurse. If you’re a nurse, why do you need to be a babysitter?”
Jill paused to think about her reply and then said, “Sometimes something happens in life that changes everything.”
“You probably just like my dad.”
Jill closed her eyes, shook her head, and said, “Good talk, Cassie,” as she walked back to the kitchen.
Cassie followed her. “He’s not available.”
“Wow, you’re really making some bold assumptions. You know what they say about assuming.”
Cassie looked at her blankly.
“When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.”
“Did you just call me an ass?” Cassie asked. For a split second, Cassie looked at her just as Kate used to—as though she didn’t understand or was pretending not to understand.
“So what will be your favorite thing about living in Arizona, Cassie? The sunshine?”
“I hate you.”
“Well, there’s something you can enjoy doing in Arizona. It’s almost as fun as skiing,” Jill shot back.
Cassie stormed up the stairs, slammed her door, and kicked it.
Jill made burritos, left a plate in the refrigerator for Cassie, and then read a book in the living room.
And later that night, when Cassie screamed from her night terror, Jill went to her room and paused outside the door for a moment before she reached for the doorknob. When she tried to turn it, she found the door was locked. She stood there for the longest time, unsure of what course of action would make things better and what course of action would make things worse. In the end, she went downstairs and heated a mug of milk in the microwave, then stirred in a package of Swiss Miss hot chocolate with marshmallows and brought it back up the stairs.
She knocked softly. “Cassie? I made you some hot cocoa.”
The room was silent.
“I’m setting it outside your door, so don’t trip on it.”
With that, Jill retreated to her own quarters.
The next day, Jill sat quietly over a cup of tea while Cassie went about her morning business. She wondered what, exactly, she had gotten herself into but figured ultimately that she had dealt with patients who were much more difficult than this.
Cassie rushed in, grabbed a breakfast bar and a banana, and made for the door just as fast as she could. No words were exchanged.
Jill was retrieving the cord she’d hid in the dryer when Mike came in.
“Hi!” he called out.
“Hey,” Jill replied.
“So, how’d it go?” He seemed so optimistic.
She hated to crush him and winced just thinking about it.
“Oh,” he said.
“Yeah, I thought it might be better, too, but when I arrived, she was ready for war.”
“How’s that?”
Jill recounted the evening’s events and concluded with, “I’m not sure where we go from here.”
Mike
“Yes,” Cassie snapped. “And I’m not going to turn it down. It’s my house.”
“Oh, I wasn’t going to ask you to turn it down,” Jill replied. “I was just going to make sure your father took you to an audiologist as soon as possible to get you a hearing aid. I know kids often don’t like wearing them, but you have long hair and it will cover it up.” She smiled sweetly and returned to the kitchen to start dinner.
And when the lemonade hit Cassie, as Jill knew it would, and she went to the bathroom, Jill took the cord that connected the cable box and the television set and hid it in the dryer, confident that Cassie was not going to be doing any chores and therefore wouldn’t find it in there.
“What did you do to the TV?” Cassie asked when she returned, angry.
“It just stopped working,” Jill replied.
“Really,” Cassie said, unconvinced and impatient. “I go to the bathroom for two seconds and the television stops working in that improbable window of time?”
“Good use of the word improbable !” Jill said. “I’m impressed! Have you been studying probability in math or science?”
“Why are you here, anyway?” Cassie asked. “Dad says you’re a nurse. If you’re a nurse, why do you need to be a babysitter?”
Jill paused to think about her reply and then said, “Sometimes something happens in life that changes everything.”
“You probably just like my dad.”
Jill closed her eyes, shook her head, and said, “Good talk, Cassie,” as she walked back to the kitchen.
Cassie followed her. “He’s not available.”
“Wow, you’re really making some bold assumptions. You know what they say about assuming.”
Cassie looked at her blankly.
“When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.”
“Did you just call me an ass?” Cassie asked. For a split second, Cassie looked at her just as Kate used to—as though she didn’t understand or was pretending not to understand.
“So what will be your favorite thing about living in Arizona, Cassie? The sunshine?”
“I hate you.”
“Well, there’s something you can enjoy doing in Arizona. It’s almost as fun as skiing,” Jill shot back.
Cassie stormed up the stairs, slammed her door, and kicked it.
Jill made burritos, left a plate in the refrigerator for Cassie, and then read a book in the living room.
And later that night, when Cassie screamed from her night terror, Jill went to her room and paused outside the door for a moment before she reached for the doorknob. When she tried to turn it, she found the door was locked. She stood there for the longest time, unsure of what course of action would make things better and what course of action would make things worse. In the end, she went downstairs and heated a mug of milk in the microwave, then stirred in a package of Swiss Miss hot chocolate with marshmallows and brought it back up the stairs.
She knocked softly. “Cassie? I made you some hot cocoa.”
The room was silent.
“I’m setting it outside your door, so don’t trip on it.”
With that, Jill retreated to her own quarters.
The next day, Jill sat quietly over a cup of tea while Cassie went about her morning business. She wondered what, exactly, she had gotten herself into but figured ultimately that she had dealt with patients who were much more difficult than this.
Cassie rushed in, grabbed a breakfast bar and a banana, and made for the door just as fast as she could. No words were exchanged.
Jill was retrieving the cord she’d hid in the dryer when Mike came in.
“Hi!” he called out.
“Hey,” Jill replied.
“So, how’d it go?” He seemed so optimistic.
She hated to crush him and winced just thinking about it.
“Oh,” he said.
“Yeah, I thought it might be better, too, but when I arrived, she was ready for war.”
“How’s that?”
Jill recounted the evening’s events and concluded with, “I’m not sure where we go from here.”
Mike
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