"Hello Mr Branson, this is the school nurse at St Patrick's Elementary. I hope you don't mind me using my mobile. My school phone's broken. I've got Millie …"

The words repeat in his head whilst he taps his fingers nervously on the car wheel, waiting behind a pickup truck that is taking far too long to enter a roundabout.

It's only Millie's first day of school and already there are a plague of diseases and illnesses filling his head.

Vomiting. Oh god, please don't tell me it was my cooking.

Measles. Nah, she got the vaccine.

Broken arm. I told her to be careful climbing trees.

Cancer. Fucking hell, Tom. Get a grip of yourself.

He realises that maybe it would have been best if he had let the nurse finish talking before he had promptly replied, "I'm on my way," and hung up the phone. The traffic begins to move and he gets to the school in less than ten minutes, scurrying out of his car and up the marble stairs into the main office.

"Uh, excuse me." He waves at the young receptionist, who seems less than interested while she continues her conversation on the phone. He waves again but she gives him a tight smile, holding her finger up to control him.

On most days, he would have waited patiently, but today was not one of them.

"Excuse me," he says loudly. The students in the reception area turn their heads, curious by the crazy man, and the teachers passing through the area scowl at him.

The receptionist frowns. "I'll call you back, dear." She hangs up the phone, staring at him with an irked expression. "Yes?"

He clears his throat. "My name's Tom Branson. My daughter started today—"

"Well, it is the first day of school," the receptionist says in a saccharine voice.

"—and the nurse called me. I don't know where the nurse's infirmary is," he says, partly ashamed. The receptionist seems to notice and sighs.

"Down the hall, climb the second staircase you see, then turn left and it'll be the third door with the big cross on it," she explains and he leaves quickly, without so much as a second glance back at her.

He follows her directions and finds the infirmary easily—he thanks being a former chauffeur for his sense of navigation—and barges in, much to the shock of the nurse attending a student.

A male student who is not his daughter.

"Uh," Tom mumbles, glancing around but there's no sign of his daughter. "Um, I'm Tom Branson. You-you called?"

He half expects the nurse to yell at him for interrupting, but instead is shocked when she offers him a kind smile. "How about you wait in my office? And I'll be with you soon, Mr. Branson."

Tom nods and heads into the room that she points to, feeling like a naughty student heading to the principal's office.

He waits there for five minutes, surveying the room he's in. It's pristine with charts and posters hanging on the walls and peers over to glance at a frame standing on the desk. Inside is a picture of the nurse with another man, although there's something irritating about the man's face that Tom can't seem to put his finger on.

"Snooping, Mr Branson?"

Tom jerks and turns to find the nurse entering the room, her smile never leaving her face as she takes a seat.

"Uh-I wasn't—"

"It's alright." She's younger than he expected and certainly more attractive than the school nurses he had. "You know, Mr Branson. You really didn't need to come down here."

Tom stammers, "But you called?"

She tilts her head slightly. "I did but it was only to ask about Amelia's medical history. I just needed to know if she had her yearly shots already."

He blinks repeatedly, taken back by the simple question. "Oh."

"I take it Amelia is your first child?" the nurse asks politely and he nods. "It's alright. It's normal for parents to be worried about their children, especially when they're young. I did try calling your wife's number but it was disconnected?" She notices that he stiffens at the mention of the word 'wife'.

"I can imagine it would be," he says and she knows better than to press at the topic.

"Well, while you're here, I could use your help in filing out the rest of Amelia's medical details. We've got most of them down but there are still a couple of blanks, Mr. Branson."

"Please, call me Tom. I have to admit, Mill-uh, Amelia's mother was the one who took care of the medical details. I've-uh, been overseas for the last year." He expects to see scorn in the nurse's eyes. After all, what kind of father doesn't know his own child's medical state? But instead, the nurse continues to offer him a sympathetic smile.

"That's no problem. I can give you a list of shots that are coming up for the kindergarten students later in the year and you can ask your family doctor if Amelia has taken them. Just send a copy of the results to the school board when you can." She quickly scribbles on a piece of paper and hands it to him.

He takes it and slips it into his jacket pocket. "Thank you—uh."

"Nurse Crawley," she answers. "But you can call me Sybil."


When he leaves the infirmary, there's still an hour until the end of school and so he heads to the nearest grocery store to do the shopping. It surprises him how much he had panicked. Back in Egypt, he was calm and collected under the constant political pressure, but here he's a mess. He pushes the trolley into the cereal section searching for the Coco Pops until he comes to an empty shelf.

Fuck.

He groans, unsure what to do. She had specifically asked for it on their way to school that morning, no doubt sick of the pancakes he's been making.

He feels his phone vibrate and he pulls it out, not surprised by who's calling.

"So, the verdict?" Thomas asks straight away.

Tom sighs. "There was nothing wrong. It was just about medical details."

"You feeling like an idiot for running out of work?"

"Yep."

"I wouldn't worry too much. Millie is a smart kid. At least, she can take care of herself. You, on the other hand."

"Not funny, Thomas."

"Listen, why don't you just take another week off of work? Get adjusted to being a single dad. It's been a slow news week anyway."

"Is Thomas Barrow being kind?" Tom jokes.

"Only for today. Tomorrow I'm back to being a jerk."

"Well, I don't know if I've said it but thanks for all the help—"

"Are you being sentimental?"

"I was trying to be."

"I thought I was the gay one."

"Shut up," Tom says. "Oh hey, are you still dropping by later?"

"Yeah … why? Are you sick of me already?"

"I've been sick of you since uni. Do you reckon you could buy some Coco-Pops before you come here?"

"What am I? Your servant?" Thomas scoffs.

"Oh come on. It's for your goddaughter. I choose you specifically to be her godparent, remember?. I choose you over all my brothers. I even went against my religion. You owe me Coco Pops."

"That's emotional blackmail, you fucker."

"So, you'll buy them?" Tom repeats eagerly.

"Chrissake." Thomas hangs up but Tom knows that his best friend won't let him down.

When he arrives back at the school, his car filled with groceries, he heads inside and goes straight to the kindergarten room where anxious parents have already gathered. He peeks into one of the windows and can see the children inside, sitting cross-legged on the ground as they listen to their teacher.

Immediately, he spots her. She sits towards the back of the group, her blue eyes staring straight ahead. Her hairclip is hanging off of her curls rather than holding them back and her hands are speckled with red paint.

The bell rings and the teacher calls out to them to gather their things and assemble in a line so that their parents can collect them. Most of the children do as they're told and follow the instructions, lining up by the door.

Only Millie takes her time. He watches while she slowly packs her things, holding each of the items for a good ten seconds until they disappear into her bag: first, her pencil case, then her water bottle and next her lunchbox. She picks up her cardigan hanging from the back of her chair and even though, the weather is warm, she puts it on, fumbling with the buttons until deciding to leave it open.

When she leaves the classroom, he sneaks up from behind her and taps her on the shoulder.

"Da," she exclaims and offers him a smile. "I didn't know you were gonna pick me."

"Of course, I was. It's your first day. I wouldn't have missed it." He holds out his hand and she slowly slips hers into his, looking down at the ground as they leave the school.

"So," he asks, "how was your first day?"

Millie coughs and then shrugs her shoulders. "It was okay. I drew pictures."

"Ah, that sounds like fun. How about you show me and we can hang them on the fridge?"

She shakes her head. "Nu-uh. They're for Ma."

It feels as if he's been sliced by a dagger and even though, his ego has taken a hit, he forces a smile onto his face. "Well, how about you keep them safe then? Just for now at least?"

She seems satisfied by the answer and keeps silent until they get into the car and she notices the groceries in the back seat.

"Did you get my Coco Pops?" she asks excitedly, pushing her seatbelt out of the way so she can get a look at the plastic bags.

"Uncle Thomas is bringing them to our house tonight," Tom replies and her face lights up. He knows he shouldn't feel jealous. After all, Thomas has seen more of her than he has in the last year but there's still a part of him that wishes he were the one making her happy.

"I like it when Uncle Thomas brings me presents," Millie says.

Tom sighs. "Well, you can thank him when he comes over." Even though it was my idea.

He starts the engine and switches the radio station to Millie's favourite. While they drive home, he loses himself in his thoughts, wondering if he's cut out for this, if he can really be a single parent to a growing little girl. In the last month, his whole world has been turned upside down and even though he's scared shitless, while her high-pitched voice sings along to the music, he can't help but smile at the sound. He starts to sing along and the rest of the car ride is filled with them being out of tune. When they arrive home, she says to him with a giggle, "You're silly, Da."

He watches as she unbuckles her seatbelt and scurries out of the car. As far as he's concerned, Amelia Grace Branson is his world and he'll do anything he can to prove it to her.


AN: As always a BIG THANK YOU to scarletcourt for beta'ng. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you guys think. Night everyone!