Back to You

“It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”

—Rose Kennedy

S
omething about this place made Lauren Monroe feel nostalgic.

It didn’t make sense. She’d never gone to day care as a child, and never worked in a day care facility before, so she shouldn’t have been feeling reminiscent. But as she stood in the vestibule of Learn and Grow Day Care, looking at the drawings of stick figures and rainbows and suns with smiley faces, she felt a faint ache in her chest, almost like homesickness, that she couldn’t explain.

Maybe it was just the wonder and innocence of being a kid again that she was missing.

“Ms. Monroe?”

She turned to see a woman standing in the doorway of the office, her blond hair pulled back into an efficient ponytail. Her outfit was casual, jeans and a T-shirt with the day care’s logo emblazoned across the front, and Lauren guessed she was probably in her mid-forties or so. But her smile made her seem almost childlike, and Lauren couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Please, call me Lauren,” she said, walking toward the woman as she extended her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Lauren. My name is Deborah Sayer. Come in and have a seat,” she said, stepping to the side and gesturing for Lauren to enter after they had shaken hands.

The desk was all business: a desk calendar with meticulous handwriting, a computer, a phone, and a stack of manila folders a mile high. But the walls—the walls matched the woman she had just shaken hands with; they were a warm creamy blue, the backdrop for dozens of framed class photos. Image after image peppered the wall, pictures of children lined up as neatly as toddlers could be, smiling, laughing, holding hands, with a few proud teachers standing behind them. As the photos went on, the teachers changed and aged, and some came and went.

But Deborah Sayer was in every one.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” she said, nodding toward the pictures as she walked behind her desk and took a seat. “It feels like I opened this place up yesterday, and yet there are kids on that wall that are in law school right now.” She smiled fondly at the wall before she turned her attention back to Lauren.

“So, Lauren,” she said, reaching over to the first manila folder on the pile and opening it. “You’re from Bellefonte?”

“I’ve lived there for the past three years. I’m originally from Scranton.”

“I have family in Scranton,” Deborah smiled. “I was just there a few weeks ago.” She looked down, eyeing the document in front of her, and from her place across the desk, Lauren could see it was her résumé. Deborah looked up, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. “Penn State girl?”

“Through and through.”

“Me too,” Deborah said. “Class of eighty-seven.”

“The professors there are amazing. I’m going back there now to get my master’s.”

Deborah nodded, the smile still playing at her lips as she looked back down at the résumé. “So, you taught kindergarten for the past three years at Unionville Primary. Tell me about your time there. What would you say your biggest accomplishments were?”

“Probably my biggest personal accomplishment was learning how to become a teacher,” Lauren said with a laugh. “You take all these classes on best practices and teaching methods, but you don’t really learn how to swim until you’re thrown to the sharks.” Deborah laughed, and Lauren added, “And as for professional accomplishments, while I was there I developed a literacy rubric that was adopted by the other kindergarten teachers in the district, and I also founded and headed a committee for increased parental involvement that was really successful.”

She nodded. “I see you were heavily involved in the community. In fact,” she said, looking up as she closed the folder, “from what I see here, I have to say, for only having worked there three years, you definitely left your mark on that school.”

“Thank you.”

“Which brings me to the million-dollar question.”

“Why am I no longer working there?” Lauren said.

Deborah nodded once, a small smile on her lips.

“I know how it looks, leaving after my third year, but I can assure you I received tenure. I would have loved to stay. I left because of my master’s degree.”

Deborah tilted her head and Lauren continued. “I’m going for my master’s in child psychology. I guess in a way I’ve always been drawn to that field, even when I was getting my bachelor’s in primary education. But working full time as a teacher and going back to school for a master’s degree,” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I always throw one hundred percent of myself into everything I do, and there was no way I could give one hundred percent to both of those things at the same time. I took some courses this summer, and the workload was…
intense
, to say the least.” She exhaled a breathy laugh. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to get this degree while planning lessons and grading and evaluating students and running committees and completing all the paperwork that comes with them. Not without sacrificing my sanity anyway.”

Deborah laughed, a musical trill, and Lauren continued. “But I couldn’t leave education, and I couldn’t stand the thought of not working with children anymore. And so here I am.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Lauren added quickly. “I know this will be work. But it’s different than a primary school. I can devote myself to my kids fully during the day, but I’ll still be able to devote myself to my degree at night and on the weekends. I can give a hundred percent to both things.”

Deborah looked down at the closed folder, and for a moment, the room was silent. Lauren began to wonder if perhaps she had said the wrong thing. selective amnesia when it comes to Del7 shoulder

“You know,” Deborah finally said, taking a deep breath. “When I received your résumé, I loved you on paper.”

Lauren swallowed, her eyes on the woman, trying to read her. “And forgive me for saying this, because it might be unprofessional… but after meeting you, I absolutely adore you.”

Lauren exhaled heavily, a relieved laugh escaping her lips. “Oh thank God,” she said softly, and Deborah laughed.

“What do you say we put an end to this stuffy interview process? When can you start?”

“Really?” Lauren asked, her eyebrows in her hairline. “Just like that?”

“You’re not that surprised, are you? I’ve already called your references. I think they wanted to put a hit out on me for stealing you.”

Lauren laughed, blushing slightly, and Deborah continued. “You are so beyond qualified for this job, it’s ridiculous. And I can sense your passion for kids, your passion for what you do. You’ll be a perfect fit here.”

“Wow, thank you so much,” Lauren said. “I don’t know what to say.”

Deborah quirked her brow and Lauren added quickly, “No, no! I mean I know what to say. The answer is yes. Yes, I want the job.”

“Wonderful,” Deborah said as she pushed back her chair and stood. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow? We’ll walk you through some of our procedures in the morning, and then we’ll just throw you to the sharks and see if you can swim,” she added with a wink.

“That sounds perfect,” Lauren said, standing and extending her hand. “Really Mrs. Sayer, thank you so much.”

“Call me Deb,” she said. “I look forward to having you on staff.”

“
You got it
?” Lauren’s mother squealed into the phone. “That’s wonderful! Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you! When do you start?”

“Tomorrow,” Lauren said, glancing in her rearview mirror before switching lanes to make the right turn onto East Bishop Street.

“Well, good luck, but you won’t need it. Daddy and I will be sending you good vibes.”

“Thanks Mom,” Lauren laughed. “Okay, I gotta go. I’m pulling into the chiropractor’s office.”

“Is today your first appointment?”

“Yes,” Lauren said, and she knew her mother would be able to detect the anxiety in her voice.

“You’ll be fine, Laur. These doctors are trained professionals, and you said he got a good recommendation, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll feel so much better afterward, you’ll wonder why you didn’t do this years ago.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Lauren said, cutting the engine.

“Call me later tonight, let me know how it goes, okay?”

“Alright. Love you, Mom. Talk soon.”

“Love you too. Bye-bye.”

Lauren ended the call and took a deep breath, tying her dark auburn hair back into a ponytail as she glanced out of the window at the office building.

She really, really didn’t want to do this.

She’d had issues with her back ever since she was a teenager, but being a gymnast always came with injuries. It was never so bad that she couldn’t perform or compete; it was just something she had to pay a little extra attention to every now and then. Occasionally it would spasm, but after a few days of rest and stretching, she’d be as good as new.

Lately, however, that wasn’t the case. It took her longer to recover from the spasms, and it took less and less to set them off. Lauren had always been intimidated by chiropractors; the idea of letting someone move her spine around was very daunting, and up until now, she had avoided it. But she had read an article the other day about degenerative spinal disorders and how a common cause was untreated back injuries, and that was enough to scare her straight.

One of the girls in her class this summer had recommended her chiropractor, Dr. Adam Wells. She said he worked wonders and was friendly and comforting, and she promised he would put her at ease immediately.

If he can pull that off,
Lauren thought,
it will be an impressive feat.

She exited the car and walked into the office, giving the receptionist her name and her insurance card. In turn, she was given a packet of about twenty pages that she needed to fill out with her personal information.

When Lauren was just about done, one of the technicians came out to get her and led her back to the room where they’d be taking her x-rays.

“I’m going to need you to stand here, feet shoulder-width apart, arms out at your sides,” the girl said monotonously, her face expressionless. Lauren did as she was told, thinking that if Dr. Wells was anything like this girl, she was going to hightail it out of there.

“Are you pregnant?” the girl asked suddenly.

Lauren’s arms dropped back to her sides. “Excuse me?”

“Are you pregnant? We can’t do this if you are.” The girl cracked her gum, waiting for an answer.

“No, I’m not pregnant.”