Page 46 of The Lies Always Told (Baker Oaks #4)

Bella lets out a breath and stays silent. Her hands scratch the rug before she opens her eyes and looks at me. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be another burden.”

“Oh, honey, you’re not a burden. You’re their kid, and they want you just as much as they want that baby. I promise you that.”

“They have other things to worry about, and I don’t want them to worry about me too.”

“Sorry to break it to you, kid, but they worry about you. They do. Most parents do, all the time. But your parents particularly love you and worry about you all the time.”

“So you think I should talk to them?”

“I think you’re their kid, and if you want to chat with them about this, you should. I think you will feel a lot better after you do. And if you don’t, my door is always open.”

“Promise?” I want to say promise back, but that word now reminds me of Gus, every time.

I don’t like it. I actually hate that a simple word can bring out so many emotions, mostly anger, and I can’t let my emotions overtake me right now.

Right now, I’m here for her. I’m her safe space, so I better pull myself together.

“I promise. Even if I’m not personally here, someone will be here. Someone always wants to listen, I promise.”

“Okay. Thank you, Ms. Thompson.”

“Just doing my job, kiddo. Now, go ahead and go to class. I have a coffee to finish.”

“And another kiddo to listen to,” she says, finishing the phrase that has become my slogan here. I do more than listen to kids, but it’s my favorite part of the job, so I had to let them know.

I hop up to open the door for her, but before she steps out, she gives me a hug. A tight hug reminds me why I wanted to do this job in the first place. “Thank you,” she whispers before marching to class.

I flip the sign on my door that says ‘Ready to listen’ so if anyone needs me, they can just knock and come inside.

It’s the beginning of the day, so the chances of someone needing me are slim, but you never know.

I wish I could just leave the door open, but that’s not safe anymore in schools, and it’s sad.

It breaks my heart, knowing our schools are resembling jails more than the haven they’re supposed to be.

Outside time has been minimized, and the windows that once were seen as a beautiful opportunity to connect with the real world are now a potential threat in the case of an intruder being at school.

I wish there was a way to fix it all, and I’m sure there is, but there’s so much out of my control.

All I can do is my part. I can show up here every day and be here for them.

I can listen, try to help, and offer advice when needed.

I can reach out to others who can help when I can’t, and I can also use my voice and my privilege for those who can’t.

A light knock on the door startles me and brings me back from my thoughts. There are a few students who stop by to say hello in between classes and some at the end of each day.

I made a corner called Food For Thought.

Students can stop by at any time to grab a snack.

The caveat? They have to leave me a note.

Usually, it’s anonymous, but they can write their name too.

I check it twice a day, in the morning and before I go home.

I open one every day and read it. Some of them have been really funny, and others have been gut-wrenching.

Some ask for specific foods, and others ask for prayers.

Some ask for a sign. I need to find a system to reply, but I’m afraid they’ll stop leaving me notes if I seek them out, and that defeats the purpose.

I open the door to find Cody. Cody is one of the eighth graders who everyone talks about.

He’s charismatic, the school charmer. Apparently, he’ll have a bright future with football one day, but he’s also good in class, breaking all the stereotypes that jocks don’t study.

The outgoing kid who seems to get along with everyone.

The social butterfly, as the teachers say.

Nobody talks much about his family, just that he has an older brother at the high school who is also a football prodigy.

Everyone talks about his football career, but nobody talks about how he’s kind.

I always see him opening doors for others or helping Jayla, a classmate who has an assistive device, carry her books to class every day.

No one ever points out that he always carries extra supplies to share with teammates, or that he stays after practice to help clean up.

No one ever said he loves sci-fi novels or that he listens to pop music loudly on his headphones, or that, despite his confidence, he still comes in every day to grab food and leave notes.

It took me four days to notice all those things, and now, four weeks later, I know he values our conversations.

He trusts me enough to ask for advice when he needs it, even if he doesn’t share a lot of deep and personal stuff.

“Hey buddy, what’s up?” I ask, smiling at him.

“Hi, can I grab a snack?” he asks, not looking at me. That’s weird. He always, always looks at me with a big smile.

“Of course, go ahead.” I move from the door, letting him pass.

He walks by with his shoulders slightly slumped, as if the weight of something pulls him down.

His hands, loosely hanging by his sides, don’t swing as he takes every step.

His gaze stays on the floor ahead, never quite lifting.

This is the saddest thing I’ve ever seen, and he didn’t even say anything.

One of my number one rules is not to ask if someone is okay.

We’re supposed to use assertive language to make sure there’s no room for gray areas, so we know exactly our student’s state of mind. I try something else.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He shakes his head until he gets to the Food for Thought corner. I turn around to give him privacy, as I’ve promised every student I will, and keep myself busy packing my things.

“Thank you,” he whispers from the door. I turn around to see him leave without another word. Weird.

“Hey Nellie. Someone’s here to see you,” Mom says from the other side of my door.

It’s open, so there’s no need to knock, but I’m not expecting anyone.

After school, I went to swim at the local gym, and then I’ve been laying in bed ever since.

It’s only 5:00 pm, but it feels a lot later, maybe because I’ve been in a constant loop of despair all day.

Gus brought me coffee and breakfast to school and a note.

For most people, that wouldn’t be a lot, but for me, it is, because that man could buy me whatever he wants, but he knows I’m not after his money.

I care about him and his heart, and the way to mine is the same.

Not through the fancy and flashy things, but through the smaller details.

I want to be seen; the note, coffee and the sentiment behind it shows me that he sees me.

Still, I’m not ready to just forget everything all because he thought of me once today.

“I hear you need an intervention,” Bee says walking through my door, and I have to blink twice to make sure it’s her. My mom smiles before closing the door and leaving us both here.

“Bee? What the hell are you doing here?” I leap off the bed and into her arms, almost tackling her to the ground.

“A little bird told me you’ve been a sad baby and needed your bestie fix.

” Bee only lives an hour away from me, but her new job has had her traveling so much, I haven’t seen her since I moved back.

She smells like strawberries and long nights talking about our lives.

Damn, I miss her. “Stop choking me, you bitch. I’m too hot to die. ”

I chuckle as I let her go and walk us both back to my bed.

“Nellie, don’t you think you’re too old to be living in your childhood bedroom?”

“I have zero desire to move anywhere by myself, and here, I don’t have to pay rent, so no.”

She rolls her eyes and sits across from me.

“What’s going on with you and that hottie of yours?

” We catch up on everything, and by the time I’m done, she has gone through every single emotion known to man.

We video call Victoria at some point so she can be in the know with everything too.

Victoria, being the emotional one, cries.

I think she’s more shocked than anything.

She’s hurting for me because she loves me, but she also understands why I’m in the predicament I am.

“So, as you two can see, I’m fucked either way.

If I forgive him, I’m showing him that I’m okay with this freaking whiplash, but if I don’t, then what?

I’m letting go of the man who has made me feel more than I’ve ever felt in my life?

I feel safe with him, and no matter what my brain tells me, my body and my heart betray me. ”

“Honey, that’s what love is,” Victoria says, like I don’t already know it.

“Do you know you love him?” Bee asks me, and I give her a dead stare.

“Yes. I thought I made that clear.”

“Does he love you?” Victoria asks, and Bee tilts her head to look at me.

“No. Yes. I don’t know. Maybe?” I shrug and toss my head back.

“Considering the call I got a few hours ago begging me to come see you? I’d say that man loves you alright,” Bee replies and lays flat on the bed.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“What do you want to do?”

I want calm and peace and quiet. I want companionship.

I also want a rush and butterflies in my stomach.

I want to feel it all. I want everything I had this summer with him, parallel with the life I’m building now.

But I don’t say any of that. “I want to be happy.” Because in the end, it all comes to that—wanting to be happy.

“Does he make you happy?” Victoria asks, always the wise one.

“Not right now, he’s not.”

“Okay then. Make him suffer until he makes you happy again,” Bee shouts, and Victoria snickers.

“No, I’m kidding. I think you just need to give him a chance to explain, babe.

Maybe it’ll all make sense. And if it does, then be clear about your boundaries.

Let him know he gets this one chance and nothing else. ”

I nod and rub my temples. It’s exhausting. All of it. “Enough about me. Tell me about you two.”

“I’m fine. Just going through my last internship before applying for jobs,” Victoria replies.

“Are you still considering editing?” I ask. She is double majoring in English and Journalism, but she wants to edit mostly.

“That’s the goal. There are a couple of places in New York I want to apply. Bee, how’s work?”

“Perfect! I truly love it! I can’t believe I landed my dream job as soon as I finished college. I guess Nellie and I were lucky like that.”

“Nells, is your job everything you wanted?”

I nod and smile. I wish I could smile as brightly as Bee, but the reality is, this job is hard.

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize how hard it actually is.

There’s so much I want to do, but it’s hard with all the policies and the expectations.

For example, I was working with the school psychologist on coming up with a plan for the students without housing, and in the middle of that, we had a code red drill.

We knew it was a drill, but we’re not allowed to tell the students it is.

Their reactions will probably haunt me forever.

Not because they were afraid, but because they didn’t even bat an eye. ”

“Code red is a lockdown drill, right? Like if there’s an intruder?” Victoria asks.

“Mm-hmm. A code yellow is like a warning. Stay put, don’t wander.

Sometimes, it might be because of something dangerous nearby, and sometimes, it’s just to offer privacy, like if someone had an accident and we had to call an ambulance.

A red is an imminent threat. We have to shelter in place.

We all have hard corners in every room, which is the safest place to be in case of an active assailant, and we just stay there until we’re cleared.

It’s scary as shit. If you thought it was scary thinking about it as an adult, imagine for the kids…

except we’ve trained them to accept code reds as a natural thing.

We’ve trained them to accept them as their normal so they just follow the motions naturally, as if it’s not a big deal. ”

“That’s the whole point, right? Like in case it is real, they have muscle memory to fall into,” Victoria continues.

“Yup, but it’s so sad that’s our reality.” They both nod. Bee looks at her watch and gets up quickly.

“No wonder you’re all sad and mopey. Oh shit, I gotta go. My sister has an event tonight, and I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now.”

“Bye!” Victoria waves from the video call and hangs up. I give Bee a hug, and after a kiss on my cheek, she leaves me here. Alone. In the silence.

My phone vibrates on my nightstand stand, and when I look at it, I have two text messages waiting for me.

DLS:

Can we talk?

DLS:

It doesn’t have to be tonight, but soon? Please.

I want to be mean and bitchy and leave him on read, but I also want to know what’s going on with him.

Me:

What do you want?

DLS:

For you to give me a chance to talk to you

Me:

you had a chance and you blew it.

DLS:

I know, and I’m sorry.

DLS:

Please, Nellie.

I lock my phone and slam it on the table.

This infuriating man. If I continue answering his messages, this will turn into me forgiving him like nothing happened, and I don’t think I can.

I can’t just look past the lies and the secrets.

The cold and the hot. The with me one day and not being there the next.

This time, I leave him on read.