They are as cute as we could make them with the resources we had. It’s inviting for the kids because it’s important for them to feel comfortable. No OT work is effective if the clients aren’t comfortable.
Just like this interview won’t be effective because I’m the opposite of comfortable.
Taysom steps toward me as Natalie wields a big fluffy brush dipped in powder. She powders my face and studies me, frowning. She searches the bag before producing some lip gloss and a cotton swab.
“We’ll just add this and then we’ll be good to go!”
She’s being nice about it, but I know we’re not good to go. I’m a shaky mess.
Taysom stands next to me, in all his effortless glory. “Are you ready?” His eyes are shining like this is no big deal.
My former crush is here, without warning, and I look likethis. In two months’ time, I’ll be jobless. With a slap of clarity, I realize I won’t get to be the one to help MJ after her surgery, which is a very big deal.
After my own surgery when I was little, my OT, Zara, saved me. She didn’t put up with my complaining, but somehow made me laugh, even through the pain of therapy.
I desperately want to be that for MJ—our rapport is great already. She’s mine and I’m invested and…now she’s going to have a different OT to help her through the agony of post-op.
Taysom glances at me, a question in his eyes. I nod, so he starts right in. “We’re here at the Early Childhood Center on campus with Charlotte Mercer, one of the occupational therapists. Charlotte, can you tell us a bit about the center?”
I smile briefly before licking my lips. “There’s a lot I could tell you.” I look at him, glance at the camera, and then back at him. I’m probably not supposed to look at the camera, huh? Willa would have known how to do this.
“Our clientele are kids ages zero to six who’ve been referred here because they need occupational therapy services for a variety of conditions. ”Taysom nods. “Yes, let’s hear about them.”
I breathe. “There’s so much to say about them. They have incredible stories. And they’re so strong. Their resilience and strength inspire me. We’ve helped improve the quality of life, mobility, and functionality of countless children.”
I take a deep breath. “There’s one child who is going to need major surgery to correct her condition, and I’m heartbroken I won’t be able to help her recover.”
Taysom’s frown is fleeting. “And why is that?”
“Well, because soon, this clinic is closing due to losing most of our funding.” At Taysom’s shocked expression, I nod. “We found out on our lunch break just now that we’re losing our jobs in June. Our directors will regroup and assess what to do moving forward.”
“Oh wow, I wasn’t aware of that.”
My gaze takes him in. “That means there will be hundreds of kids whose families will be forced to go somewhere else for the treatment they so desperately need. And all because the university reallocated our funds to something else. Our kids need this clinic. We don’t charge for our services, and our clientele relies on us to provide what they can’t afford.”
“That’s really unfortunate. I’m sorry.”
“Let me ask you something, Taysom. Why is so much money going to a big, fancy, state-of-the-art sports med facility when centers like this are being forced to make huge cuts?”
Taysom’s mouth opens and closes. He blinks.
MJ’s dark eyes fill my mind. What’s going to happen to her? This isn’t fair to her, and I know that more than most. Her gait is problematic—I’ve memorized every part—and it haunts me.
“Sports gets money from so many sources,” I continue. “I know the whole idea of kids in need of OT isn’t as exciting and newsworthy as elite athletes who need an ice bath once in a while. But can you live with yourself knowing that kids won’t be getting the preventative screenings and treatment they need because you’re funding something that’s going to be just fine without your cash?”
My OT, Zara, changed everything about my recovery after surgery. The pain—unforgiving and white-hot—zigzags through me as I remember those days. How I couldn’t run and play like the other kids. How I was stared at and teased for my cast and the braces on my legs. But Zara’s no-nonsense optimism gave me hope. It kept me going.
“Donors are lining up for the sports medicine institute,” I say, my cheeks growing hot. “But not for the Early Childhood Center, Taysom.” My voice breaks at his name, my lips trembling. “This is personal to me. I am these kids. The conditions that plague them? Well, it happened to me.”
Taysom’s mouth drops open and one of his perfectly thick eyebrows quirks in the air.
I’m standing in front of somebody who has the means to help, and there’s no way I’m going to stop advocating for these kids now. “Would you consider donating to our center instead?” I blurt it out before I even realize what I’m doing.
I step back.
What have I done?
Chapter 6
