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Brendan sat glancing about the tiny cubicle office. It was as sterile as his exam rooms, which he found a bit odd for being an elementary school. When he had been called to the office to discuss Charlotte, his heart sank. His first thought was that she was injured, but upon arriving, he was told about an episode where she wet her pants in class. He was aware that this was the third time in several weeks and was causing concern to grow amongst the teachers and staff. He had been asked to talk with Sarah Conley, who was the counselor at the school.
“I appreciate your coming down here so quick,” Sarah said as she rounded the corner into the office.
“I was worried about Charlotte,” he said, glancing about and realizing she wasn’t there.
“We cleaned her up, and she said she wanted to go back to class,” she responded.
“Oh. Okay, then why am I here?”
Sarah gently closed the door and went around to take a seat behind the desk. “I spoke with Charlotte today and just wanted to confide in you some of my concerns, without her having to be in the room.”
Brendan perked up, trying to get a read on what the counselor was talking about. He didn’t know Sarah personally, having just met her in passing when school started this year. He knew she was a transplant to Little Bend, but that was the extent of it. This person wanting to dig into the open gaping wound that was his personal life and speak about his daughter’s turmoil rankled him a bit. At this point, though, he needed to hear her out and what her recommendations were. When you hit rock bottom, he was fast in finding out everyone had an opinion. Since he was out of options himself, he was willing to give them all a fair hearing.
“I hear you are having a tough time right now,” she started, slowly with an empathetic tone.
“Yes, we are having a bit of a rough patch,” he acknowledged. “I’m assuming you know about my wife?”
“I do,” she said, glancing upward as if searching for something.
He realized he was missing something, and she was having a tough time trying to figure out the best way to address him.
“Ms. Conley, just spit it out! I have pretty thick skin and can tell you want to say something but are holding back.”
She looked at him, deadpan in the eyes, “You are causing Charlotte to be worried and distracted.”
“You mean she is upset about her mother?”
“No! Daddy is mad at me. He sent me to bed in his mad voice last night.” Brendan sat back in the chair with a look of surprise.
“I was stressed,” he thought back to the night before. “I did raise my voice but would never hurt them.”
“Charlotte is afraid the anger is directed at something she is doing. She broke into tears, telling me she tries to be good.”
“She is,” Brendan stopped, and a light bright as daytime went off in his brain. His little girl was feeding in on his stress. It h nothing to do with her mother. His anger, depression, and short temper were causing her to wet herself during the day. His poor baby!
“Has she ever brought up her mom?”
Sarah wouldn’t meet his eyes for a minute, and that caused the alarm ringing throughout his body to elevate even louder.
“She once said, she thought you were mad because she doesn’t remember what her momma looks like.”
Brendan sat forward as the moment she was referencing played in his mind. He had been telling Jake how angry it made him that the girls would never remember what Catelyn looked like and how upset he was at not having them be able to remember her because they were so little when she passed.
“I’m the problem,” he said letting it sink in. “My anger and anxiety are what is causing Charlotte and probably Piper to have these episodes.”
He sat back in his chair and replayed several conversations he had with Belle and Jake recently. They had all nicely reminded him of augmentations to his behaviors he needed to make. The girls barely remembered Catelyn, and if he could work through his issues and stop raising his voice, having insomnia, and being torn up all the time, they would be better off. The voice he had tried to silence behind the grief was talking to him loud and clear.
“I’m so sorry,” he said as his voice cracked. “I’ve been in a bad place for a long time and never realized how kids would pick up on that. I’m doing this to them, not for them.”
“I’m sorry about your wife. Grief messes up our entire world, especially when the loss is so sudden and horrific,” Sarah said, rolling over to sit directly in front of him. “This is not your fault.”
“It is my fault,” he said, inhaling and giving her a half-grin. “It means it is on me to fix it.”
They sat in silence for another moment or two.
“I know Belle Townsend and her staff at the Living River do some magnificent work with children,” Sarah started.
He chuckled. “Belle is already working with the girls; I think I was just undoing all her positive work.”
“Well, I have a sneaking suspicion; things are about to turn around,” Sarah said, suddenly very bright.
He stood slowly, “They are. Thank you, Ms. Conley,” he extended a hand. “I needed that little slap in the face.”
She took the proffered hand, “I am glad I could help. Charlotte is a beautiful little girl and has such a big heart; she will be okay if she knows you are doing better.”
He just nodded and let himself outside. When he finally made it out to the sunlight, he couldn’t help but lift his face to soak in the rays. “I got the message Caty – I got the message!”
