Also, maybe he was right.
“Excuse you, Benny,” I murmured. I knew the way he was speaking to me wasn’t okay, but I didn’t really understand why. What was going on again? I was teaching… Which unit were we in?
“Miss Fischbacher, I mean it. Sit down now!”
Benny was a good kid. He wouldn’t yell at me for no reason. And now that he mentioned it, the world was kinda spinning. Maybe I should?—
I should…?
I shouldwhat?
The next thing I knew, I was looking up into the very young andveryconcerned face of Benny as he held my water bottle up to my lips.
Wait, when did I lie down on the floor?
“Please take a drink, Missus Fischbacher. You gotta drink water.”
I opened my dry mouth, my eyes searching his face. I wassoconfused. It was like someone had suddenly yanked my plug out, then rebooted me like a computer with no recovery mode.
“Jimmy! Go get a teacher!”
Jimmy? Why… oh, right. He was the fastest runner in my class and had about two inches on the rest of them.
The water went down my throat like a blessed panacea, and a bit of coherency came back to me. I’d gotten dizzy and faintedafter being sweaty all day and skipping my midday meal and meds.
Fuck.
I was really sick, wasn’t I?
As much as I knew it, I mentally tried to deny it. Verbally wasn’t really an option, since I couldn’t figure out how to breathe and articulate at the same time. Actually, I was pretty sure that most forms of speech were impossible for me.
Time got a bit weird, and the only thing I was certain of was taking slow, long, and steady draughts of water from the seemingly endless bottle. Then the paramedics arrived.Ugh.I was making a scene. Definitely hated that.
They asked a lot of questions, but their words mostly sounded like the adults from Charlie Brown. Squinting, I shoved my trembling hand towards the closest one, my medical bracelet dangling from my wrist.
“Graves’ disease,” I rasped, trying to focus on my breathing and body rather than my embarrassment and shame.
Maybe I was far too much in my own head, but I swore they exchanged looks before they got me fully onto a stretcher and started to roll me out.
Oh yeah, I definitely fucked up.
SIX
BEN
A Brave Young Boy
For the second time in a very short while, Junior’s school called me.
Concern flooded me. How else had I failed my boy? We’d talked a bit about nightmares, and I’d allowed him to crash with me a few nights. I’d only just gotten him into the after-school program his teacher had recommended, and while he definitely enjoyed it, it wasn’t like there’d been much progress. Not that I knew what that progress was supposed to look like.
“Hello?” I asked, uncertain if I needed to defend myself or if I did indeed suck as a father.
“Good afternoon, is this Mr. Poynter?”
“This is.”
“Ah, perfect. I don’t think we’ve actually talked before, but I’m the principal of your son’s school. You might have heard him call me Salinas? A lot of kids drop the mister.”
