September Exclusive - "Drop-Off" - Part 1

The drive to the new daycare has already taken forty-five minutes. Over an hour, if you count the journey from Grace’s apartment to pick up her niece. This isn’t the ‘quick drop-off’ that Grace’s sister promised, and it’s the 28-year-old, not the four-year-old, who wishes she would have used the bathroom before leaving the house. That banana smoothie has gone right through her.

Grace picks up a call from Faith on the hands-free.

“Nearly there,” says Grace, because there’s only one reason Faith could be calling. “I’ve hit nothing but red lights.”

“They were expecting you ten minutes ago. Debbie gets anxious when she’s late for things.”

Yeah, I wonder where she gets that from.

She glances back at Debbie, who’s sitting with her rainbow-stripped backpack on one side of her and a blanket on the other, stroking the fuzzy ears of her canine stuffie with the faraway expression small children have when they’re not quite there.

“She’s fine. What was so wrong with the old daycare?”

“I wasn’t sure she was getting a chance to fulfil her potential. I want her to shine.”

At what, finger-painting?

“What does Todd think?”

Grace gets butterflies in her stomach. Is she reckless for mentioning Faith’s husband? Or would it be more reckless not mentioning him?

“Todd agrees with me,” replies Faith. Her tone is flat.

Of course he does. Anything for a quiet life. Although judging from last Friday, maybe Todd is looking for something a little more stimulating.

Rain starts to pepper the windshield, and Grace flicks on the wipers. They hit another red light, and she looks out at the strip mall offerings. Maybe she’ll visit Hobby Lobby after the drop-off. Something about the middle of September sends Grace’s thoughts to being an early bird and getting Thanksgiving decorations. And then she sees, a block away, something that should address a more pressing need. “I’ll text you when I get there.”

“Did you enjoy the smoothie?”

Grace glances down at the container which has nothing but yellow dregs. “Sure. Banana…tastic. I’m full to the brim with potassium.” In truth, the only thing feeling full is Grace’s bladder.

“Finish it?”

Grace laughs. “Debbie insisted.”

“Good.”

Which part; that her sister finished the drink, or that her four year old daughter is incapable of letting things go?

“Call you later,” says Grace, finger poised on the disconnect button on the steering wheel.

“Let me know once you’ve dropped her off.”

“Said I would.”

Faith ends the call first.

“Are we there?” asks Debbie from her car seat, seeming to come back to the present as the car slows and turns. She looks through her side window. “That’s not school, that’s Starbucks.”

“Just need to make a quick stop,” Grace replies. She sees her niece’s face wrinkle in the rearview mirror. Pretty girl, but she has her mother’s look of perpetual trepidation.

“Your new daycare is pretty far, huh,” Grace says brightly, and then mutters, “Can’t believe your mom thinks this is going to work every day.”

Debbie shakes her head vigorously. “You don’t need coffee, Auntie Grace, you got a smoothie. Mommy made it special.”

Grace pulls in and parks. “It’s the smoothie that’s the problem, honey, I really need to pee.” She lifts the cup from its holder and shows Faith the empty evidence. “You’re the one who wanted me to drink the whole thing.”

“Mommy made it special,” Debbie replies. “Today’s special.” A whine enters her tone. “And now we’re gonna be late!”

Don’t worry, kid. We’re already late. And you know what? Mommy doesn’t care that this is making me late for work. She thinks I should be at her beck and call, because she’s the one with a child and I’m not. Grace peers through the rain. Does this Starbucks even have a bathroom? The pressure on her bladder suggests that it would be worth a look. She unbuckles her seatbelt, a statement of intent, and turns to smile at Debbie. “You know how it is, honey.” Christ, the kid should be more sympathetic; she’s barely out of Pull-Ups.

“You can go potty at school,” Debbie says slowly, determinedly. And it’s funny, in that moment, how the four year old manages to sound exactly like her mother.

Grace sighs, refastens her seatbelt. “Fine.” And she is sure, right this second, that she’s not going to chauffeur the brat to daycare again. Faith can work it out, if she’s so desperate to make it work. At the next red light, she texts her assistant – start the catch-up without me, I’ll be there in 45. What is it her old boss used to say about management? If your people can do their work without you, then you must be doing it right.

Five minutes later, Waze announces that they’ve reached their destination.

“I got it,” she says, when Grace prepares to lift her out of the car.

“Of course you do,” says Grace, stepping back. “You’re a big girl.”

Debbie scrambles out of her seat, pulling her backpack and stuffie with her.

“First day,” says Grace brightly. “But you got your lunch, you got your blanket, you got Doug.”

“First day here,” Debbie clarifies. She brushes at her pink-hearted T-shirt – the one that says I Love My Daddy, a statement that is either a warning shot at her aunt, or an adorable coincidence - and then looks appraisingly at the front of the building. “My old one had rainbows.”

Blank and formal, it looks more like an office building than a daycare. Debbie checks the address Sarah gave her. They’re at the right place. “Maybe there will be rainbows inside.”

They both watch as a woman unloads two chattering toddlers from a minivan and rushes them inside.

Debbie sticks out her jaw. “We’re late. Aren’t we.”

“Sorry,” says Grace.  She’s fleetingly jealous of the woman with the toddlers. Two chunky little monkeys in matching outfits. Cute as a pair of buttons. Oblivious to the adult world around them. Why can’t she have a niece like that?

“How about I come pick you up at home-time?” Grace offers. “Take you for ice-cream? We can go to the place with special sprinkles.”

The little girl shakes her head. “I want Mommy,” she says.

And is she thinking of what she saw on Friday, walking in on Daddy with Auntie Grace? What did she even see? It could have been a worse moment, but it was bad enough.

We’re hugging,Toby had blurted, over-the-top, practically knocking Grace over as he rushed to pick up Debbie and swing her around.

Maybe that was enough. For a little girl, Debbie is hard to read. If she had told her mother about it, would Faith have asked Grace to help with drop-off?

And what is shewearing? Grace watches as a woman rushing into the daycare, sans kids. She’s holding a man’s hand, and she’s wearing some kind of velour, yellow jumpsuit. Is it a one-piece? Grace doesn’t see the woman from the front, but isn’t there something strange about the way the woman is walking? Is she, in fact, skipping?

Whatever. She turns back to Debbie. Grace will find a way to win the kid over. If the brat doesn’t like ice-cream with sprinkles, then Grace will get her something else instead. She’ll buy her energy drinks and a goddamn pack of cigarettes if that’s what it takes.

“Come on,” Grace says to the girl, “We’re getting wet.”

She holds the folded blanket under her arm, takes Debbie’s hand and they walk briskly into the daycare and find a reception area, beyond which is a hallway that is entirely lacking in rainbows. The place looks clean, in fact it looks almost sterile. Is this a daycare or a hospital? Grace looks ahead to see two main doors, one green and one yellow.

The Gen Z daycare worker that checks them in wears a matching green T-shirt and a beaming smile. “Debbie, you’re all set. You’re going to be in my class, with the other big kids.”

“Yellow’s for the babies,” says Debbie.

“That’s right! What a smartie you are. Give Mommy a hug and we’ll go get you settled. You’ll have your very own cubby for your things.”

“Oh, I’m not-“ Grace begins.

“That’s Auntie Grace,” Debbie deadpans, delivering this information as if it is neither good nor bad news. “And I got Doug.”

“Dog?” asks the woman.

“Doug.”

“Doug the dog,” Grace clarifies. “He’s in her bag.”

Grace crouches down and is immediately reminded of her urgent need to use the bathroom. “I know your mommy wanted to be here, on your first day. Wanna give me a hug instead? I like hugs.”

“I know you do,” replies Debbie dismissively. “You hug everybody.” But she holds out her little arms and Grace reaches around the girl’s backpack.

“Oof,” Grace says. “Good hug.”

Debbie releases her grip and steps away. She takes the daycare worker’s hand and looks back at her aunt. “Better than Daddy?”

Grace blinks. “I’m sorry?”

Debbie doesn’t offer a clarification. She doesn’t need to.

Grace watches her walk into the green room, and listens to the sound of children before the door closes.

“Hi” Another of the daycare workers, another Zoomer, her red hair arranged in perky pigtails and with freckles that makes Grace thinking of Wendy’s burgers, is wearing a yellow T-shirt. “There’s some paperwork to sign, before you go.”

“Right.” Grace reads the girl’s nametag. “Jodie, I’m not the mom, just an aunt. And could I just use your-“

“We know who you are,” Jodie replies. She gives Grace the same beaming smile that she’d given Debbie. “Your sister told us you’d be here for the drop-off. We just need a family member’s signature on a few things. Follow me?”

“Okay, sure. But can I use your bathroom please?” She imagines for a moment, stepping from one foot to another, an adult-sized version of the potty-dance Jodie must see every day.

The woman nods. “Of course.”

Grace nods, and they go down the hallway and into an office. The curtains are drawn, and Jodie closes the door behind them. The room, unsurprisingly for a daycare smells of diapers, and there’s music coming from somewhere. Wheels on the Bus, Grace recognizes.

“I’ve flagged where I need your signature,” says Jodie cheerfully, waving at a set of papers marked with yellow stickies.

Grace shakes her head. “I really need to go,” she says. She meant it as a whisper, but it comes out as a whine, it comes out just like Debbie sounded back at Starbucks.

Jodie raises an eyebrow. “Can’t you hold it? Just for a second?”

Grace feels her face redden. “Are you…I’ve been holding it long enough, and all I need is…”

Her shoulders slump. She looks down at herself, horrified.

“All you need?” prompts Jodie.

Grace can feel it before she sees it. A warm, wet rush, before the spreading darkness around the crotch of her jeans. “Oh, God.”

“Just a little accident,” says Jodie. She goes to close the office door. She smiles at Grace, takes her hands and gives them a squeeze. “Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re in exactly the right place.”