Chapter 10 - A Woman With a Clipboard
The buzzer rang while Dad was folding laundry on the couch. It was morning and light came in thin through the blinds. My bear sat next to me with his arm still wrapped in toilet paper from my game. Dad looked at Vanessa before he pressed the button.
My name is Ellie. I was four and I counted the knocks.
The woman had short dark hair and flat shoes and a clipboard held against her chest like a tray. She smiled at me first, not at them.
"Hi, Ellie," she said. "I'm Dana. I just want to see how you're doing at home."
Dad said, "Come in." His voice had that pause in it. Vanessa stood by the kitchen doorway in her cardigan and smoothed it down. Her hair was pulled back tight.
Dana sat on the chair across from us and didn't open the clipboard right away. She asked Dad how my arm felt. He looked at me.
"Show Dana your brave arm?" he said.
I held it out. The white gauze was clean from that morning. She didn't touch it. She just nodded and wrote nothing yet. That made me breathe easier.
"You like to play doctor?" she asked, looking at my bear.
I nodded. Dad's hand rested light on my back.
We walked down the hall together. That was the second part I remember because the bathroom still smelled like soap. Dana stood in the doorway and looked, not touching much. She looked at the white tub, the mat on the floor, the little plastic cup I used for rinsing. She opened the medicine cabinet and closed it soft.
"In here?" she said.
"Right there," Dad said. He kept me a little behind him. "Supplies are under the sink."
He opened the cabinet and showed the box of gauze and the tape and the paper with the clinic times. Dana nodded and wrote something. Then she looked at the faucets.
"Can you show me how you check it now?" she asked.
Dad turned the cold on, then added hot slow. He put his wrist under. He waited. He checked the little sticker thermometer stuck on the wall by the tub.
"Ninety-eight to a hundred," he said. "I wait a minute after it looks ready."
Dana wrote that down. Vanessa stayed in the hall. Her arms were crossed.
Then we went to my room. My bed was made crooked because I'd helped. Bear's blanket was folded. Dana looked at the nightlight, the dresser, the pile of books. She kneeled a little to be near me.
"Can you show me your game?" she asked.
I picked up Bear. My fingers felt big. I wrapped a new strip of toilet paper around his arm and tucked the end in like Dad did with tape.
"He got too hot water too," I whispered.
Dana smiled small. "You're taking good care of him."
"He cries less now," I said.
Vanessa made a sound in her throat. Dad glanced at her. Dana wrote two lines and stood.
Back in the living room Dana sat at the table and finally opened the clipboard flat. She asked Dad for his phone. He handed it over and showed with his thumb.
"Clinic discharge at nine-forty," he said. "Photos the next morning. Plumber invoice here. Heater set to one-twenty now."
Dana looked at each screen and wrote times. Then she turned to Vanessa. Her voice stayed even.
"Walk me through bath time that night," she said. "Start when you ran the water."
Vanessa sat straighter. "I ran it. It felt... I thought it was okay. I put her in. She cried right away, and Mark came home."
"Did you test it with your wrist or elbow before she got in?" Dana asked.
Vanessa paused. "I put my hand in. I think the hot came up after."
"You didn't wait and recheck?" Dana said, writing.
"I—" Vanessa looked at Dad. "I was tired. I didn't wait long enough."
Dana didn't frown. She just kept her pen moving. "Did you add cold after she was in?"
"I don't remember exactly," Vanessa said quietly.
Dad's jaw moved. He didn't interrupt. I held Bear tighter.
Dana set a paper on the table. It had boxes and lines. "This is a bath safety plan," she said. "Only Mark gives baths until the doctor clears otherwise. Water checked with wrist and thermometer, written temp each time. Tap locks stay on. Never leave her alone in water."
She slid plastic locks from her bag, the kind that cover the knobs. Dad tried one on in the bathroom and it clicked. I heard it from the couch.
He signed first. Then Vanessa. Her hand shook a little on the last letter. Dana signed last and tore off a yellow copy for Dad.
"No change in where Ellie lives," Dana said clearly, looking at me so I'd hear. "We'll do a follow-up call next week to see how the plan is going."
Dad let out a breath through his nose. Vanessa stared at the paper.
Dana stood and zipped her bag. At the door she bent down to my level.
"You did a good job showing me today," she said.
May you like
I nodded and hid Bear's wrapped arm against my chest so it wouldn't come undone.
After the door closed, nobody talked for a minute. The apartment felt too quiet. Dad picked up the yellow paper and put it on the fridge with a magnet shaped like an apple.
