"Okay, it seems you're struggling with math. Equations specifically," I said after skimming through her notes.
I leaned closer to her, explaining with clarity, "This equation at your age should be quite simple. The symbols can be tricky, and it looks like you might be confusing subtraction with division."
"They do look somewhat alike," she defended, crossing her arms.
"I understand, but they represent two very different operations. Subtraction means to take away, while division means to split into parts. They're distinct concepts," I elaborated, speaking as simply as I could while drawing the symbols on a large sheet of paper.
"Come sit here," I beckoned, knowing it would be difficult to effectively teach her from across the room. She hesitated briefly before sliding off her chair and approaching me, hopping into the seat with a light thud.
I shifted the book so she could see the symbols clearly. "This is addition, which means to combine two or more values. Subtraction means to take away, division entails splitting, and multiplication is repeated addition."
"Do you understand?" I asked, tilting my head to catch a glimpse of her dark hair cascading over her shoulders.
She lifted her gaze to meet mine. "It's still confusing," she admitted, her honesty refreshing.
I felt a wave of relief; at least she wasn't pretending.
"That's perfectly fine. I don't expect you to grasp it all at once. Now that I know where you're struggling, I'll make this a fun learning experience for you," I assured her with a gentle smile. "But you have to promise to pay attention and really try to learn."
"Depends on how well you teach," she shot back, a hint of a challenge in her voice.
"I'll surpass your expectations," I replied confidently.
"Hope so," she murmured, clutching the rest of her books and settling into the living room with a determined look. As she started to read, I resolved to ask Julian to buy some educational materials like counting blocks to aid her—she seemed to lack these necessary tools.
Rising from my chair, I began to tidy up, which was also part of my responsibilities. The mop and brush were stored away, so I walked over to fetch them, setting to work on the mess around us.
As I scoured the parlor, mop in hand, I noticed Harper starting to grumble. I turned to her, curiosity piqued. "What is it?"
"You're distracting," she declared, her face scrunching up in irritation.
"Would you prefer to read in your room, then?" I suggested, offering her an alternative.
"No. I like it here," she snapped back, crossing her arms defiantly.
I shrugged, deciding it was best to ignore her for now. The task needed completion, and the sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows that hinted at dusk's approach. I continued to work, mopping the floor until I had finished three hours later. Exhausted, I stowed away the mop and the brush before washing my hands in preparation for dinner.
Opening the fridge, I was disheartened to discover it was almost bare—something I needed to bring to Julian's attention.
With a sigh, I prepared a simple meal: scrambled eggs, baked beans, and a pot of tea, arranging it neatly on the dining table.
"What's this?" Harper asked, casting a skeptical and irritating eye over her plate.
"Simple, isn't it?" I teased lightly. "Unfortunately, the fridge isn't well-stocked at the moment."
"Are you trying to murder me? I'm allergic to eggs!" she exclaimed, panic swirling in her wide eyes as she stared at the plate.
I quickly rushed to gather her egg-laden dish, my heart racing with worry. "I'm so sorry!" I stammered, the weight of my blunder pressing down on me.
In the midst of my frantic effort to clear the remnants from the dining table, the heavy door creaked open, revealing Julian. He stepped inside, visibly worn and stressed, as if the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders. His eyes darted around the room but quickly found me, and in that moment, his expression shifted from fatigue to a flash of confusion that danced in the depths of his stormy gray eyes.
"Leader? What are you doing here?" he asked, his brow furrowing in bewilderment. Carol, as the head of their history class, had missed a couple of sessions recently, creating space for Theresa to awkwardly step in and try to assume that role, even though nobody had formally asked her to.
My heart raced at the sight of him, thumping like a drum against my ribcage. I had steeled myself to see Julian today, but nothing could have prepared me for the unexpected closeness that suddenly enveloped us. Speech felt slippery on my tongue, making it hard to respond.
"You employed me," I replied, my voice steady but quiet.
His gaze flickered to Harper, then back to me, his expression shifting as if he was piecing together a puzzle. "Oh," he said, a hand instinctively coming to cover his mouth. "That's right, I didn't expect it was you."
"I didn't expect it either," I admitted, lowering my lashes shyly, feeling a rush of warmth in my cheeks.
From her perch at the table, Harper scoffed, seething over my earlier mistake of inadvertently offering her food that she was allergic to—a fact I had been completely oblivious to.
"So what's going on? Are you coping?" Julian's voice softened, genuine concern woven into his words.
I nodded, forcing a smile despite the overwhelming chaos of the day. "Cleaning is tough work, I never imagined your house would be this expansive, but I can manage just fine."
He surveyed the room, taking in the tidiness that surrounded him, a thin line forming at his lips as he regarded my efforts. "What did you use?"
"Mop and brush?" I replied, meeting his gaze, the question swimming in my eyes.
Julian's attention shifted again to Harper, seeking validation, but she merely turned her head away, her disdain palpable in the air.
"There's this cleaning machine at the store," he continued, his tone almost accusatory as he directed his gaze back at his sister. "That's what we use, and it doesn't require special attention. Just leave it on, and it does its job. Harper, you didn't tell her?!"
"She seems energetic enough to mop and brush the floors," Harper retorted, crossing her arms, defiant.
"Thank you for letting me know, Julian," I said with a bright smile, relieved to find him approachable in a household where the other siblings maintained a much more daunting presence. At that moment, he felt like a beacon of kindness amidst the storm.