Page 44 of 3 Daddies to Go

Greg slings his arm around my back. “They’re lucky to have us, you know?”

I nod. “We’re lucky to have them, too.”

Greg squeezes me gently. “Absolutely. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have this program.”

Greg’s a nurse at a children’s hospital, and he cares for the terminally ill. I couldn’t do it. I understand why Greg likes coming to the program.

“Okay!” he says after we share a moment. “I need to get going. The hubby doesn’t like when I’m late.”

“Have a good afternoon,” I call after him. While we try to have everyone follow a schedule, some volunteers can make their own hours. Greg is one of the few certified medical volunteers we have, so we’ll take him whenever we can get him.

A little boy with unruly blonde hair takes Greg’s place. “Ms. Kendall, when is lunchtime?”

I check my watch. We serve the kids lunch at one, giving the breakfast crew enough time to switch over and make all the food. It’s still thirty minutes until we’ll open up the food lines. “You have a half an hour, Brayden,” I say.

His shoulders droop. “I’m hungry now.”

I tilt up his chin to meet my eyes. “Is everything okay, buddy?”

Brayden nods, but his eyes pool with water.

“What’s going on?”

He shakes his head quickly and wipes his eyes. I put my arms around his shoulder and usher him into the school building. There’s an empty classroom just inside. I sit him down at one of the desks and take the seat next to him.

“Alright, Brayden, now tell me what’s going on.”

The young boy sniffles. There’s a box of tissues on the desk in the front of the classroom, so I grab it for him. He spends five minutes wiping his face. Brayden keeps looking over his tissue at me like he expects me to leave.

“I’m not going anywhere. Let’s talk about what has you so upset, okay?”

“I don’t want to leave,” Brayden says quietly.

I squeeze his shoulder. “Are you sad that you’ll leave your friends?”

“No, Ms. Kendall, you don’t get it!” he shouts. Brayden is ten years old, but his forehead is wrinkled with concern. Most of the kids at the program look the same. A lifetime of worry trickles down from their parents and falls on their shoulders.

“Explain it to me, Brayden,” I say calmly.

He takes a few deep breaths. “We might have to move.”

My heart sinks.

“I heard Mom and Dad talking yesterday,” he says, tears still pouring from his eyes. “They said we might have to move in with my Aunt Megan in Louisiana.”

“Oh, Brayden, I’m sorry.” I pull him in for a hug, and he buries his face in my shoulder. I let him cry and rub his back to try and calm him down.

Brayden’s family owns a restaurant in town called ‘Mama’s Home’. I’ve eaten there tons of times, and it’s usually pretty busy, but I’ve heard rumors that it isn’t doing well. Brayden’s parents took out a mortgage on the building, and they got roped into some bad terms. They haven’t been able to keep up with the payments. It doesn’t help that we had some bad storms last year that caused flooding all up and down Main Street where Mama’s Home is located.

“I don’t want to leave,” Brayden says again. “I’m happy here. No one is happy at my house, and Aunt Megan is weird, Ms. Kendall. She collects dolls. They’re all over her house. They’ll probably come alive when I’m sleeping.”

I cringe. Dolls freak me out, too. “I can assure you the dolls won’t come alive, but maybe you can have Aunt Megan move them into a different room than the one you sleep in?”

He nods against my shoulder, the tears slowing down. “I guess so.”

“And there are other programs,” I say. The Sunshine Program has some sister groups around the country. “I’ll talk to Margot, and we’ll get you hooked up with a new program in Louisiana.”

“It won’t be the same. What about my friends?”