Story Continued
Holy crap! What now? I excuse myself from Ms. Epstein, although I'm certain in five seconds she won't remember me being there and head for the phone at the nurses station. "Hello, this is Dr. Cramer," I say.
"Yes, Doctor. This is Brenda Dickson, Alexis's counselor at school. I sure hate to be the bearer of bad news all the time, especially knowing how busy you are, but it seems we have a problem with Alexis again. The grade level principal, Mrs. Howard, caught her smoking in the girl's bathroom," she says.
"Oh, Jesus, why can't that girl learn? So what now?" I say, with all the excitement of an eight eear old at Mozart concert.
"Well, we already gave her a warning last time. Now she has to go to AEP for six weeks," Ms. Dickson replied.
"AEP? What the heck is that?"
"It stands for alternative education program. Kind of a lock down away from the other students. She'll have to stay in one room with other kids who're in the same boat and take her classes off campus. It's in the old Wisford High School that was closed down three years ago. Now, the district uses it for it's AEP program. The buses don't run there so I'm afraid you'll have to provide the transportation yourself, somehow. I'll give you the number so you can find out the particulars like where exactly it is, what the uniform requirements are---"
"What? Uniforms? Ya mean I have to go out and by uniforms for the kid?"
"Well, yes, it's a requ--"
"And how the hell am i supposed to get her to shcool? I have rounds at 6:00 every morning. I have a hard enough time gettiing up before noon, for chrissakes!"
"I know how you feel, doctor, and I truly wich there was something I could do, but Alexis--"
"You don't understand!" I interrupt, "My plates already so full I'm at my breaking point! Can't we reconsider this and give her some other punishment? How about hanging her by her thumbs in the gym for 12 hours? Or you can relegate her to the school cafeteria kitchen so she'll have to see what the food there is really made from, now that would be sheer torture. Or you can make her scrub all the school toilets with a toothbrush, hell, I don't care what ya do with the kid, but I don't have time for all this!"
The pause that follows my tirade tells me Ms. Dickson is choosing her words carefully. I can almost hear her lips pursing and jaw stiffening. "There is nothing I can do to change the consequences your daughter has brought on herself," she replies, stressing the "brought on herself" part more than necessary. "We can't allow illegal activity on campus. And it's not like it's the first problem we've had with Alexis. I mean, there was that time when--"
"Okay, okay, Ms. Dickson, I read you loud and clear, " I interject, preferring anything to being reminded of Alexis's past, including having my tongue tied to a hot tailpipe and being driven over broken glass naked. "I'm sorry. It's just that I've had so much stress lately. I didn't mean to come across so hard. I'll see what I can do."
"I'm so sorry," she says, in a softer tone. "Kids. They can sure be a handful sometimes, huh?"
'You have no idea, lady,' I think to myself. "Yes, they sure can. But they're worth it," I add, not entirely convinced.
I hang up, thinking, 'Jesus, that's gotta be the most expensive cigarette in the world.'