✅ My Cousin's Keeper [NaNoWriMo 2021]

10. My Recipe for Success

I had a lot of work to do on Friday. I barely had time to think about my little one all the time she was at school, and I ended up having to stay behind longer than I expected as I was the only keyholder left in the office. It was frustrating, but that was something I'd been used to dealing with over the last couple of years. I realised as the afternoon drew on that it would be the first time this week that Tess had managed to get home before me, and I found myself checking my phone more than a couple of times, just in case of messages to say that she had missed the bus, misplaced her keys, or some other catastrophe that I couldn't resolve unless I was actually there. The last words I'd said to her were "Have a nice day, babygirl," and now they seemed etched in my mind. Was I letting my baby girl down?

I didn't get a message. She was pretty good at pretending to be an adult, and if it hadn't been for her little accidents I might have started to believe her. I was almost thinking that I wouldn't need to worry about her, when my phone rang. The place was almost empty already, just a couple of temps and me, but I didn't care who else was around. I grabbed my phone and answered it right away.

"Tess? Are you okay?" I realised as soon as I spoke that I'd been a little too quick to react there, a little too on edge. It was hard to believe that she'd only been there for a week, and I was already so concerned with her welfare. But even if she was my cousin she still felt like my little girl, and I knew that soon enough she would feel the same way. I couldn't just stop worrying about her, when I'd had to leave her home alone.

The answer from the other end of the line was a muted giggle, and that immediately set my mind at rest. Not because it necessarily meant Tess was fine, but because it prompted me to glance at my phone's screen rather than just assuming some catastrophe.

"Sorry, babe," I answered this time. "Got caught up at work again, was worried something had happened to the kid. First time I've not been home when she finishes school, you know? I've been a bit nervous."

I got up and walked into the back office while she answered, away from prying ears. I didn't like to be away from my post, but Ffrances was pretty good at pushing all thought of work out of my mind, and I didn't want to risk saying something inappropriate when the temps might be listening.

"I know," I answered. "But I missed her, and I keep imagining something terrible is going to happen. I can't wait to get back home. Only twenty minutes now, but I don't think I've ever been this impatient for work to finish before. Is this how a real mother feels?"

"Could be. You really do care about that kid. Not had any conflict yet?"

"Well..." I mumbled. I didn't know if I should confide in her about Tess's little problem or not. But in the end, I realised that she might be able to give some helpful advice. So I told her that my cousin had wet the bed a couple of times, swearing her to absolute secrecy, and asked if she could think of any reasons. Anything I could suggest to Tess, that might help her to worry less about her latest problem. And I mentioned the upcoming exam too, all the things that I knew my baby would be worrying about. I wasn't sure, but I was starting to think that Ffrances would be a better mommy than I was; she would be able to get past any inhibitions and unlock the child's real feelings. Even if Tess didn't want me to share, I knew that I could trust my girlfriend, and that she would do everything in her power to help.

"That's... a little unusual," she said, after a pause just about long enough to make me wonder if the call was still connected. "I'd be worrying about her health. Can you get her to visit a doctor? I've seen a patient before with similar issues, but I think this is something she needs to see a professional about."

"Well, I was thinking about that. But it would only stress her more. She's still denying it, she won't even admit it when it's so obvious, so there's no way I could get her to talk to the doctor about it. She's ashamed, I think. But... I want her to be happy."

"I understand. I won't say anything, and I won't let on that you told me. And... I shouldn't say this, but I might be able to offer some advice. Suggestions on coping better, maybe. If she's willing to talk to me, I can try to judge if it's something we can let her deal with, or if she needs to seek out professional help."

"If you can help her, then it would be–"

"Hold up," she cut me off, and I knew that I'd crossed a line there. Maybe she'd rethink later, but not right now.

"Sorry, babe. I just don't want her to be worrying. I don't want her to be missing out on something that matters to her, and you know how helpless I feel."

"I understand that," she sighed. "Look, I can't be her doctor. That would be unprofessional, We'd practically be her guardians if I'm spending more time at your place. So I can't offer medical help. But if there's something I can do informally, I guess... I can always offer advice. Non-medical advice, right? If she asks for it. You can tell her that I'd be willing to try to help her, perhaps. But if she talks to me and I see that she should be receiving a diagnosis and treatment plan, I can only recommend she calls here. There's a doctor here, Pete Lawrence, he's a good guy and always confidential. My personal recommendation. Understand? Advice, sure. But anything I'd consider to be medical advice has to follow the impartiality rules, so she'll need to talk to someone who isn't so close."

"I think she might go for that," I said with a smile. "I hoped you might say something like that. I'll never push you to break all your rules, but I think just talking to somebody who's got some kind of relevant academic knowledge might be all she needs. To reassure me, if nothing else, and so we can be sure she's not going to go for some snake-oil treatment."

"Sure. Just let her know I'm willing to talk about it. And that I won't judge her. Best case, I can help her find a safe solution. Worst case, I'll tell her she needs to see a professional."

"Thanks. I love you. And you know what? I think you'd make a great parent."

"I think medicine isn't quite there yet. But I do love you. And if you want to start a family, then maybe someday..."

I whispered a few more ideas about what I wanted to do this weekend. Ideas that demanded whispers, even if there was nobody else in the inner office, and things we'd only have an opportunity to try if Tess was able to keep herself entertained. Ffrances chuckled, told me to wait and see, and ended the call before I could tell her that I loved her.

When I opened the door again, I saw that the temps had all gone. I had the place to myself, and there were less than two minutes left before our regular closing time. So I signed out of my computer, picked up my jacket, and headed home. I got back expecting to find Tess relaxing in front of the television, or in her room attempting some homework. Either would tell me something about what kind of person she was when there wasn't an adult watching. The worst case was that something had gone wrong and she wasn't even home, but despite the nagging worries at the back of my mind that didn't seem really likely.

I was amazed when I got back and found her in the kitchen. She had a selection of ingredients spread out on the counter, and was just lifting a tray of chilled vegetables out. There was a recipe there too, a page I'd cut out from a magazine propped up against the front of the microwave. I realised that she had looked on the little whiteboard by the back door, where fridge magnets supported a bewildering array of notes, leaflets, and takeout menus. For my first week looking after a child, I had written out a quick menu to make sure I had bought enough food for two. And it seemed that she had checked what I intended to cook today and made sure that everything I needed was ready by the time I got home. I ran upstairs to change into some more comfortable clothes, and on the way I noticed that her sheets had been washed, dried, and were back on her bed already. She was more organised than any child I'd ever seen. And then I came down, only to find all of the ingredients for dinner spread out in the order I would need them, and a cup of coffee sitting steaming at the front.

"Perfect timing," I said with a smile. You've been home an hour now, haven't you?"

"Yeah. I wanted to make myself useful. I left the cold stuff in the fridge until I saw your car. This the right stuff?"

"Yes, thank you," I said with a smile, and then tried to work out what I was missing in her expression. She was waiting for something, and didn't know how to say it. I could guess easily enough: "I think it's time I go back to treating you like an adult, right? So long as there's no more little accidents."

"There won't be!" she exclaimed, blushing as red as the onions on the chopping board.