I scrolled through my phone, clearing my throat again, then added, “Ugh, I’ve got frogs in my throat.” I hummed loudly, hearing my voice crack. I finally found a video of funny dogs Poppy liked and handed it to her. “Here, sweetie. Just watch this, and I’ll be right back.” I cleared my throat one final time, feeling my airway clear. “Finally, I got that frog out,” I added, both trying to make Poppy smile, and ease my own nerves, as I pulled on my door handle. I jogged to the roadblock where a small mob of people waited for me like it was the finish line of the Chicago Marathon.
“Clover.” Susie pushed a microphone toward me, not taking time for introductions. “Can you tell us how many animals were injured in the explosion and what Tucker Drilling is doing about it?” Another reporter appeared on my other side, and rudely called out, “Clover, how much will this explosion cost the taxpayers for clean up?” At this point, a whole throng of reporters swarmed me, all pelting me with questions at the same time. I wasn’t dismayed, I was born for this. Pulling my shoulders back, I stood tall and grabbed Susie’s mic. “Thank you so much for your concern. We are still looking into what might have caused the explosion. I can’t comment on that. I can say we are thankful no one was injured. We want to assure you that we will work with top industry environmentalists to get everything cleaned up and back to baseline.”
“Clover,” Susie went on, “this is the second environmental accident Tucker Drilling has had this month. You would have to agree it appears negligent, and highly alarming, even reckless. Can you tell us about any extra safety precautions Beau is taking to ensure this won’t happen a third time?”
“I—” My voice dropped like a hot potato. Poppy was hopping across the roadblock and into the grass like a rabbit, right toward the well fire! “Poppy!” I screamed, my feet propelling me forward. Everyone had been so focused on my interview they missed her passing right through the barricade. “Poppy!” I screamed again and pumped my legs harder. She didn’t hear me though, as she was off in her imagination. My heart pounded in an abnormal pattern, notches above healthy pacing. I knew with every fiber of my soul, if I couldn’t save her, I woulddieof guilt. “Poppy!” I screamed with every fragment of breath I could squeeze out of my fear-stricken chest.
People say when you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes, but in this moment, I saw Poppy’s life flash before mine. I saw her sitting across from me at the breakfast table, two years old in her unicorn highchair eating cheerios. She had golden pigtails and shining blue eyes that never left mine. I understood back then I was her protector, and I swore to always take care of her.
That was before she regressed.
Next, I saw her the day we found out about her diagnosis. She had lost her words and had been avoiding eye contact for months—if not the better part of a year. Even though we were all heartbroken, mourning all the things she’d never be, she didn’t seem to notice as she rocked herself back and forth in her favorite corner.
These sad memories were going to slay me. I pushed them away and ran harder, trying to get to Poppy, screaming like a wild animal was chasing me. The doctors had said she’d never had any vision problems, but she didn’t process things the way most people do. She clearly must not see the giant fire she was headed directly towards, or the black smoke rolling out. I couldn’t run fast enough, so I screamed again, my voice filled with terror, “Poppy! Stop!”
Then like a country-boy Flash without tights, Beau flew right past me, not slowing until he scooped her up. He flung her over his shoulder, and I held my breath as he returned with her. My eyes cemented on him looking so heroic as he calmly brought my sister back to safety, like it was merely another day at the office for him. It truly was the bravest thing I’d ever seen, and I fought back my sobs so hard it hurt.
All the cameras had shifted to Beau. Even in her high heels, Susie had managed to traipse through the field and catch up to him, jamming her mic right in his face. He ignored her, and I ran up to them, not realizing until now I had given into the tears that poured out of my eyes.
Everything happened so fast, my mind was having a hard time processing it. I slid Poppy off Beau’s shoulder and embraced her in a completely selfish hold. Poppy hated to be hugged, or even touched, but I needed to feel her near me to reinforce that she was safe. I fully expected her to wiggle out, or at least struggle, with my squeeze, but she didn’t. She slammed her arms around me and held on tight, nestling her head into my neck, and squeezing so hard I struggled to breathe. I didn’t care. This was our first real hug, and it brought another sting to my eyes. Having her this close, gave me the reassurance she was going to be okay. My racing pulse slowed to a normal rate, and my heart started to descend out of my throat. Holding back more sobs, and not fully expecting an answer, I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “What were you doing?”
She stared blankly over my shoulder. “I was looking for the frog you lost.”
“Wh-what?” I deadpanned, remembering clearly how I had joked about my throat being clogged with a frog. I thought I had been funny, but I had momentarily forgotten Poppy only understood things to be literal.There was no real frog, but she didn’t know that.Feeling like a failure, again, I saw this was fully my fault.
I was going to have to do better.
As if not wanting to miss her golden chance, Susie pushed that stupid mic at me. But I was done playing their game. PR was one thing. My private family life was another. I ignored her and grabbed Poppy’s hand, guiding her toward the car. The media followed, now trying to ask Poppy questions. I couldn’t deal with this. My heart was maxed out. I tossed a look over my shoulder, barely regarding them. “Show’s over everybody. Go home, or you’ll all be reported for trespassing.”
I was a master of creating the perception of things looking perfect. Yet, this was too personal for me to care about anything else. I had been careless, and almost lost Poppy. I glanced back at Beau, who locked eyes with me communicating he understood.
“I’m going home,” I said, my jaw still quivering. “Just ignore these reporters and I’ll handle it in the morning.” Without waiting for a reply, I helped Poppy into the front seat and strapped her in. My fingers trembled so hard, I had to retry to click the seat belt three times before it snapped. Hot tears clouded my vision as I clambered back to the driver’s seat. I fought back the urge to just gun the engine and tear out of here, but instead, I did the responsible thing and backed out slowly, because the cameras were all still focused on me. It dawned on me it might only be a matter of time before social services would show up, trying to make a case to take Poppy away from me. I pressed one hand against my mouth, stifling the scream I fought so hard not to emit. I flashed my eyes heavenward, and cried out, “I’m sorry, Mom. I failed her.”
eight
Clover
I don’t remember getting ready for work the following day, but somehow, I managed to pull myself together enough, and dropped Poppy off for another day with Lori, the friendly neighbor. Having hated this routine from day one, I couldn’t say I felt any better about it today. I was failing Poppy every day I had to leave her there, but I was doing everything I could to change this situation. I just had to finish my contract with Beau and I’d be able to move forward with her center. With her as my sole motivation, I pushed myself hard, when the only thing I wanted to do was stay in bed all day, and snuggle Poppy while we watch movies and shut out the world.
Since that didn’t pay the bills, that was not an option.
Just for today, I allowed myself to keep my phone turned off because I couldn’t stomach the news exploiting Poppy. My heart remained tight, wrapped in a blanket of anxiety as I made it to Beau’s office. I felt foolish, and full of guilt that I needed to explain. I forego a traditional hello when I let myself into his office and instead lead with, “It was careless of me to show up to the wellsite like that. I don’t know what I was thinking, but from now on I’ll handle all emergencies off-site. We’ll set up a command center here at your office, where the press will be instructed to meet me.”
“That’s fine with me.” His voice was low, but he did not appear upset as he stared back at me from his leather desk chair.
“But—” I continued in my sullen monotone, as I sank down into the only open chair in the room. “—it seems your on-camera rescue glossed over the explosion, and I haven’t had any pushback about that.”
He was quiet, and he seemed to be watching me. For once in my life, I didn’t feel like working. This was the part of my plan where I needed to help Beau rehearse some media responses, but my brain was fogged up. Everything I did kept pulling it back to Poppy, and oddly something new happened. My eyes had developed a magnetic pull directly to Beau’s kind smile. Where once there was a grubby country boy, now stood this . . . this . . . I don’t know, but he made my knees like jelly. I forced myself to look away, taking this as the perfect opportunity to bring up something. I shoved my hand into my backpack and pulled out a Gala apple. “This seems weird, but Poppy wanted me to give you this.”
His eyes lowered, catching on the apple. He didn’t say anything, so I continued, “It doesn’t seem like much, but if you knew her, you would understand it’s a huge deal. She doesn’t talk much, and apples are her absolute favorite food. She doesn’t get candy, or any junk food, so this is the sweetest thing she gets during the day, and she looks forward to it all day. She won’t even share her apple with me, so I was pretty much stunned when she saved it for you—” My voice trailed off because it sounded stupid to explain something like this to someone who would never understand what it meant for Poppy to do this. “It’s sort of a big deal to her.” I raised my eyes to meet him as I placed the apple on his desk. “It means she likes you.”
His eyes steadied on mine, but he was quiet for a long while before asking, “How is she?”
“She’s fine.” I don’t know, why but I felt like I needed to explain to him, so I tacked on, “she is my sister, and she’s autistic. I help care for her.” This is the part that always felt weird. I wasn’t ashamed of anything, but I constantly grappled with knowing how much wastoomuch to tell people. Not because it made me uneasy, but I didn’t want to make them uncomfortable. “Both our parents are dead. Nothing tragic. They were wonderful parents but older than average, and now I’m all Poppy has.”
He didn’t ask me any questions or change the subject, so I continued, “The hardest part is what to do with her during the day. It wasn’t bad when she was in school because they would keep her busy, but she graduated last year, and we tried a few work programs, but never found the right fit. Then my mom stayed with her because she was home, but when she passed recently, we ran out of options. I have a neighbor watching her right now, but that is not the right fit as she gets no social interaction with people her age.” I don’t remember getting up from my chair or starting to pace the room, as it filled my need to fidget, but at this point I was on my second lap and I turned back toward him. “My goal is to open a center for adults where she can go during the day. It’s sort of the only reason I took this job working with you because the commission will help with a down payment. If I want to apply for grants, they have strict rules about commercial zoning and all that stuff, and it’s been a nightmare . . .” I had said too much, and I guessed by how quiet he was that he probably wasn’t even listening. I lowered my eyes and noticed that in addition to the random awkward pacing, I had been picking the skin around my fingernails.
He surprised me by chiming in, “I think that is a great idea.”
