Several waved back. Our four- and five-year-old classes followed. Once everyone was out the front door and waiting to be picked up, I pulled an information packet out of my desk and turned back toward the trio.
“Blade, do you have any questions?” I asked. He’d been quiet throughout the entire meeting.
“No ma’am,” he replied. “I’m just here for the cookies.”
Smiling, I resisted asking him where he was from and which branch of the military he was serving in, and Link distracted me with another question. We chatted for a while longer before Emily committed to a donation from her firm and Link promised to run everything by his board of directors.
At about a quarter past five, Adina appeared in my doorway, worriedly glancing toward the front door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mercy, but we have a… situation.”
My schedule was often held hostage by any one of the sixty adrenaline junkies whose moral compasses had a difficult time distinguishing fun from crazy—so I was used tosituations—but it was past time for the kids to be gone. By now, staff and volunteers should be cleaning up and preparing to head out for the night. Wondering what could be wrong, I excused myself from my guests and followed Adina into the foyer where thesituationpresented itself immediately. One of my teachers, Gena, stood between her four-year-old student, Toby Gibson, and a man I didn’t recognize.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t uncommon for strangers to pick Toby up. I had no children of my own, so I didn’t personally know the struggles of being a single mom, and I wasn’t trying to be judgmental. But, I dealt with enough single parents to distinguish those who were trying from those who just didn’t care. Toby’s mom, Sheila, had run out of fucks to give long ago. She played men like they were a game of musical penises, a fact directly represented by the constantly changing list of people allowed to pick Toby up.
I couldn’t care less who Sheila allowed in her panties, but I sure wished she’d show a little more discretion when it came to who she allowed around her son.
Despite his mother’s relationship issues, Toby was a sweet, loving little boy, a bit shy and reserved but his counselor was working on getting him to open up and be more vocal. I’d seen Toby leave with all manner of strange men without batting an eye, but the way he cowered behind Gena, made it clear that he was afraid of this one. It was my job to find out why.
“Sheila said I’m on the goddamn list and you people shouldn’t give me no trouble,” the man said, his words slurring together as he pointed a finger in Gena’s face, just inches shy of her nose.
Calling Toby to me, I crouched until our eyes were level. “Do you recognize that man?” I asked.
He nodded. “That’s Larry.”
“Has he ever hurt you or your mom?”
Toby looked like he was about to respond, but thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut.
“Toby, what the hell are you doin’ over there? Get your shit and come on. I don’t got all day to wait on your slow ass. The boy moves like goddamn molasses.”
“Sir, this is a preschool,” Gena said, standing taller. “If you could please refrain from swearing I—”
“If you could please refrain swearing,” Larry repeated, his voice mockingly high and singsongy. “Think you’re so prim and proper. Shit, you ain’t nuthin’ but a glorified babysitter. Now do your job and hand over my girlfriend’s kid so I can get out of your hair.” He staggered, and I hoped he’d fall off his drunk soapbox, but no luck. “And another thing—”
Before he could enlighten us with his clearly vast wisdom, I stepped in. “Gena, why don’t you take Toby to my office and try to call Sheila. I’ll handle this.”
Gena’s eyes were full of gratitude as she stepped back and took Toby’s hand, tugging him toward my office. Larry tried to follow but I stepped in front of him, cutting him off.
“What the fuck do you want?” Larry asked.
Deciding to try honesty, I said, “You’re clearly intoxicated, and we cannot let Toby leave with you. It would be best for everyone if you walk out that door and go home to sober up.”
“I ain’t intoxicated,” he replied.
I begged to differ as his stench filled the foot of space between us, burning my nose hairs. He was beyond intoxicated. Someone had marinated him in cheap booze, rolled him in an ashtray, and then baked him in the sun for a week. I tried breathing through my mouth, but that was worse, almost like tasting him. My tongue was going to need a bath after this was over.
“I only had one beer and I ain’t going nowhere without Toby. Promised his mom I’d pick him up so she don’t have to pay the late fee, and that’s what I intend to do. You people are always trying to screw over hard-working people with this late fee bullshit. You’re just trying to keep Toby here longer, so you can charge his mom more.”
Apparently honesty wasn’t going to do the trick, so it was time to switch tactics. “You’re right. You caught me, but I’ll tell you what, keep it between us and I won’t charge Sheila any fees. In fact, if you show me your photo ID, I’ll go make sure you’re on the approved pick up list and we’ll get you all squared away.”
“What?” he asked, his expression puzzled.
I couldn’t tell if it was the fact that I’d agreed with him, or the use of so many words strung together that had thrown him off. Regardless, I planned to keep it up. Confusion was the best stall tactic I knew.
“Photo ID. You said you’re on the list, so I need to see a driver’s license or some other official identification with your name on it, since this is your first time picking Toby up. It’s school policy.” His eyes bugged out like I’d asked him for the winning lottery ticket rather than a piece of plastic to confirm his identity. If he had a problem with that one, I couldn’t wait to see how he reacted when I asked him to prove his sobriety by spelling out his name in yoga moves. That’d be stall tactic number two. “It’s usually in your wallet,” I added, trying to be helpful.
Swaying, Larry took a couple of swings at his backside before he finally connected and retrieved a faded leather billfold. He flipped it open, leaned forward, and it closed again. Maybe I wouldn’t need additional stall tactics after all. Turned out Larry was drunk enough to stall himself.
“Tried Sheila’s cell and her last known place of employment,” Gena called out from my office door. “By the way, she hasn’t worked there in over a month. The cousin she listed has a disconnected number.”
