Second Time's the Charm

“Raising your son, getting a degree and working. It’s admirable.”

“It’s life,” he said. “I fathered a child. I was offered a scholarship—a chance to better myself—and I have to work to buy diapers.”

“Right. You didn’t have to accept the scholarship.”

Another glance. Were they growing sharper? “You’re kidding, right? You’d expect me to turn my back on an opportunity to be able to provide my son with more advantages as he grows up?”

“Of course not! I’m not saying I thought you should have passed it by. I’m saying that many people in your situation wouldn’t have dared to accept the opportunity.”

“Oh.”

“Especially since you have to work, too.”

“The scholarship actually provides living expenses, but only for one. And in addition to Abe’s living expenses, I have to pay extra for the student health benefits that are provided to me to cover my son.”

“Like I said, I think what you’re doing is admirable.”

“I don’t want to be admired.”

She was missing the boat on this one. And running out of time.

“I want to help you.” Bonnie paid her to help children adapt to day care life. Not to help single fathers raise their children.

But she knew she could make a difference here. Abe was a motherless baby boy who could benefit from her services and she didn’t care about being paid.

“I don’t need help.”

“Hey—” Slowing, she touched his wrist and stepped out of the flow of traffic on the sidewalk. He followed her, standing facing her, both hands in his pockets. “I’m not judging you, Jon.” And then quickly added, “May I call you that?”

“Of course.”

“Call me Lillie.”

“Fine.” He glanced over her shoulder. Presumably at the sidewalk they’d left. He seemed eager to be on his way, but still had time before he was due in class.

“Have you ever worked with a child life specialist before?”

“Never heard of one until yesterday.”

“Which makes you like a lot of people,” she said, offering him the first natural grin she’d felt since their meeting began. “Child life specialists have college degrees, generally in a child development field. After college, they complete a practicum, followed by an internship, usually at a hospital. Finally they take a national, several-part exam and, upon passing, receive certification. Our goal is to reduce the negative impact of stressful situations on children and on their families. Most commonly, we’re found in hospitals or in the medical field, supporting kids and their families through procedures or long-term illnesses, but we work in schools, with the courts, and even in funeral homes.” She spoke like a parrot in front of a classroom. Not at all like herself.

And wasn’t happy about that. She’d like to have walked away, to put this man, and his son, out of her life, but something was compelling her to press forward.

“Abraham’s not sick or in court. He doesn’t go to school and no one’s died that I know of.” Jon started to walk again.

“You just moved to a new town, a new apartment. You’ve started school and working at a new job. Your situation could be having a negative impact on him.”

That stopped him.

“What kind of impact? He’s throwing tantrums like a normal two-year-old.”

She shook her head. “That’s just it. He’s not. Other than his bouts of panic, Abraham is probably the most well-behaved two-year-old I’ve ever met. His tantrums don’t seem to be a product of testing his boundaries like you’d normally see at his age. They aren’t temper related. He doesn’t throw tantrums when he doesn’t get his way. He doesn’t have problems sharing. To the contrary, he lets the other children take things from him. His tantrums appear to be emotionally based. A symptom of stress, as opposed to part of his normal development process.”

“Are you suggesting that I quit work? Or school?”

“What I’m trying to suggest, Mr. Swartz—” Jon just didn’t do it “—is that you let me help you. Or at least let me try.”

She’d never pursued a client before. Why was she doing so now?

Her schedule was kept plenty full with the clinic and Bonnie and the school, and the once-or-twice-a-year call from the local funeral home.

“How can you help?” He didn’t slow down. Or look at her. She wasn’t sure if he was just humoring her or not.

“I’d like to spend some time with you and Abraham. To observe you together. I’ve got some things I can show you to help him to calm down, little things. Easy things...”

“Like singing.”

“Music therapy is good, yes,” she said, relaxing for the first time since she’d seen him standing by the tree. “I’m not sure what’s causing Abe’s stress, but I think that if you gave me a little time, I might be able to figure it out.”

“You’re some kind of shrink, then?”

“Psychology classes were part of my degree, but no, I’m nowhere close to being a psychologist.”

Veering off the main path, he approached a classroom building, stopping at the foot of a wide staircase up to a row of doors. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You want to hang out with us, give me some ideas, and that’s it?”

“That’s it.” She had no idea if that would be a good thing or bad thing as far as he was concerned.

“And Bonnie’s paying you for this?”

“She pays me to help her clients adapt to preschool and Abe’s stress is preventing that adaptation,” she said carefully. Money didn’t matter here. Abe did.

“Fine.”

It was Lillie’s turn to stare. “Fine?”

“Yes, fine.” That was it. Nothing more. Her heart rate sped up, anyway.

“Okay, then, I’ll call you tonight and we can discuss schedules. If that’s okay with you.”

“I can tell you right now. I’m working tomorrow until three and then Abe and I are going to go to the park and out for a hamburger before coming home to have a bath, read books and get ready for bed. And no, I don’t feed him fast food every night. Once a week for a special treat is it.”

The next day was Saturday. Traditionally a light day for her as only the emergency clinic was open in Shelter Valley after noon. “Unless I’m called in on a medical emergency, I can meet you at the park at four.”

“Fine.”

Wow. What had appeared to be a mountain she was going to have to scale had turned out to be a curb. “Fine,” she repeated, smiling, getting lost in his gaze when she should have just been getting lost. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said and, turning, hurried away from the strangest encounter she could ever remember having.

First rule of child life—the specialist did not become personally involved with the patient or the patient’s family. She was there to support. Not to experience.