Writing to not Doom Scroll: Another day another job rejection email slay
The girls’ room door still had the crooked crayon sign taped to it.
Nick stared at it for a second before knocking anyway.
A moment later the door creaked open just enough for Clementine to glare at him through the crack.
Then, without a word, she pointed at the sign. Nick sighed dramatically.
“C’mon, Clem. Gimme five minutes and this room’ll be boy-free forever.”
Clementine narrowed her eyes suspiciously before finally stepping aside. Nick walked in carefully.
Sarah and Clementine sat cross-legged on the floor drawing together while a giant blanket lump occupied Kat’s bed in the corner.
Nick pointed toward the suspicious pile of blankets. Asking a question he already knew the answer to… “What’s wrong with her?”
Sarah looked deeply offended by the question. “She has a bad cold,” she said. “Duh. Men are so stupid.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause the flu definitely makes you drink yourself unconscious.” he thought to himself.
Nick crouched down awkwardly in front of Clementine.
“…I’m sorry I almost shot you.”
Clementine looked at him confused.
“You already apologized for that.”
“Well, now I’m double apologizin’.”
That earned the tiniest smile out of her.
Nick rubbed both hands nervously. “I got a lotta shit in my head,” he admitted quietly. “But I never shoulda taken any of it out on a kid.”
His voice softened. “I’m tryin’ to be better.”
Clementine studied him carefully for a long second before nodding once. “…Thank you Nick, that's…nice of you...”
Nick exhaled slowly before glancing over at Sarah. “And Sarah…”
She looked up immediately. “I’m sorry you had to live with me yellin’ all the time.”
“You didn’t know why you were suddenly livin’ with strangers. And me constantly losin’ my temper probably scared the hell outta you.”
Sarah looked down at her drawing. “…Sometimes.”
That hurt worse than Nick expected.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I figured.”
"But thank you Nick, that is nice of you to say" Sarah said with a geuine smile.
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