Meet Cute(49)

I’m reeling as the introductions take place. The school social worker, the entire support team, the head of special education, her principal, counselor, two of her teachers, and the drama instructor are all in attendance. I feel completely ambushed. Kailyn introduces herself, because clearly I’m overwhelmed.

“I’m sorry. I thought this was going to be a private meeting.” I direct the statement at Linda.

Miss Garrett clears her throat. “We thought Linda could provide some valuable insight since she has such a close relationship with Emme.”

“Is that so?”

“Emme talks to me. Maybe she doesn’t share the same things with you.” Linda’s hands are clasped in front of her, her smile serene.

Kailyn moves her arm so it’s pressed up against mine, and taps her lip with her pen. There are teeth marks in the cap. “In the interest of helping Emme, it would be beneficial to hear from all of the adults who see her regularly. I think we’ll have a better sense of the whole picture.” She smiles gently at me. “Isn’t that right, Dax?”

“Yes. I agree.” It’s hard not to be defensive or reactive with my aunt sitting across the table from me, looking smug.

I listen to Emme’s teachers talk about what an outgoing, vibrant student she was at the beginning of the year, how exemplary her marks had been, how wonderful she was to have in the class, but in the weeks since our parents passed, there’s been a marked decline. She’s withdrawing, she’s moody, her temper flares, she’s pulling away from her friends. The word depression is thrown around, along with post-traumatic stress disorder, therapy, grief counseling.

“I know we all want what’s best for her,” Linda pipes in, her voice deceptively soft. “She spends a lot of time in the library alone these days. Her English teacher says she’s been writing poetry, and when I asked Emme about it, she showed me a few pieces. She seems like a very lost, angry girl. I know you’re doing your best, Daxton, but maybe you should consider whether it’s enough.”

She’s baiting me. I know this. But rage flares hot, and I have to bite my tongue to stop from saying something that will make this situation infinitely worse.

Kailyn grips my thigh under the table, possibly as a warning, or maybe she shares my anger. Either way, she’s the one who addresses my aunt. “Daxton’s ability to care for and provide for Emme is not in question here. Just as Emme lost her parents, so has Dax. I think it’s reasonable to expect her marks to drop and for her to withdraw.”

A murmur of agreement comes from the social worker.

Kailyn turns her steely gaze on Linda, then slowly looks around the room. “We’re not here to put Dax on trial or to debate whether he’s fit to parent. He’s here because he’s looking for support from the people who spend the majority of their day with Emme, five out of seven days a week.”

“And we’re here to do whatever we can to help Emme adjust,” assures her counselor.

“I think what would serve us all best here is to provide a list of resources and services for Daxton and Emme to access. Regular emails and phone calls seem to be the most effective way to communicate concerns and issues as they arise. This term is going to be difficult for Emme. We can’t expect her to bounce back from this in a couple of months. If anyone else has something of value to add to this conversation, now would be a good time to do it. The school day is long over, and I’m sure Emme is exhausted and would like to go home.”

I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from Kailyn, and neither can anyone else. Watching her own the room is captivating. It’s exactly what makes her a passionate, articulate, and commanding lawyer. It’s also likely the reason she can manage to resolve things before it ever gets to a courtroom. She’s incredible, and despite what she’d believed I’d done to her, she never once let it affect how she dealt with Emme or Emme’s case.

No one seems to have anything to add, or if they do, they’re too intimidated by Kailyn to speak up. Emme’s in the waiting room, cheek propped on her chin, writing in a book with her earbuds in.

“Hey, kiddo.” When she doesn’t respond, I tap her on the shoulder.

I get the briefest glimpse of her writing before she slams it closed with a start. It looks like poetry or stream of consciousness. Is this the stuff she shows Linda? I don’t understand why she’d confide in her and not me. Maybe because she’s female and family?

“Hey! God, you scared the sh—crap out of me.” Her eyes dart past me and she shrieks and pushes her seat back, elbowing me out of the way to get to Kailyn. “I didn’t know you were here!”

“I’m guessing I’m a good surprise, then?” Kailyn laughs, but her eyes are on me, questioning and a little unsure.

“The best!” Emme gathers up her things and attaches herself to Kailyn as we head out to the parking lot. “Can you come for dinner tonight? I’m making shepherd’s pie. I can still cook, right, Dax?”

I fall into step beside them. “Yeah, of course.”

When she realizes we came in separate cars, she asks if she can ride with Kailyn. It gives me some time to digest what happened in the meeting.

I’m mentally exhausted by the time I pull into the driveway, having stopped at the store to pick up a six-pack of beer and a couple of bottles of wine. I don’t know what Kailyn’s preference is, but I thought it would be good to have options.