Chapter 10

Mothers

For Ellie, who always worries -- sweetly

When the moon at full on the sill of heaven

Lights her beacon, flooding the earth with silver,

All the shining stars that about her cluster

Hide their fair faces;

So when Anactoria's beauty dazzles

Sight of mine, grown dim with the joy it gives me,

Gorgo, Atthis, Gyrinno, all the others

Fade from my vision.

Sappho

She seemed out of place in the sterile, white cinder-blocked attorney conference room. She was an older, somewhat frumpy woman dressed in a disheveled blue business suit, looking more like a harried middle school teacher than a criminal defense attorney. Her expression said she wished she were somewhere else. Anywhere else.

She opened her briefcase, rummaged through it until she found the folder she wanted.

At last, the inmate access door opened, and a scraggly, thin, toothless woman in an orange inmate jumpsuit was led in. She was not happy. "Will you take these fucking things off," she snapped at the corrections officer, indicating the handcuffs securing her wrists.

The CO, a burly young man, did just that, and the woman flexed her wrists. "Behave yourself sunshine," he said with a grin, "Or it's back to your cell."

"Yeah, fuck you! Kiss my ass!"

The CO stepped out of the room, and the lawyer motioned for the woman to sit down. "You my fucking lawyer?" the woman growled.

"I'm Denise Ashton, and I am in fact your court appointed attorney. Just for the record, you are Sandra Harper?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"May I call you Sandra?"

"Whatever."

"OK Sandra," Ashton said, looking down at the documents. "You've been charged with some pretty serious crimes."

"Yeah, it's all fucking bullshit, cops tryin' to harass me."

"Uh, no Sandra, these are not harassment charges, these are serious, go-to-prison charges. You need to face that reality very quickly."

"When the fuck am I gettin' outta here?"

"Sandra, let's focus on the stuff that matters first. Your charges. Let me review them for you. Possession with intent to distribute a Schedule 1 narcotic – heroin." Sandra started to protest, but Ashton held up her hand. "Listen, then we'll discuss. Possession with intent to distribute Class 2 narcotics – cocaine, oxycodone, and methamphetamine. One count of elevated, aggravated domestic violence assault, aggravated because the alleged victim is under 14."

"That fuckin' cunt daughter of mine," Sandra snarled.

"Ssshhh, relax. Listen. Resisting detention by force. Assault on a police officer. Taken in total, these are very, very serious charges. I see from the record that you've dealt with various misdemeanors before. These, my friend, are not misdemeanor charges. They are very serious felony charges. The potential is there for you to go to the state prison for 30 years. And if you want to look at a really bad – but definitely possible – scenario, those drug charges could be turned over the Feds, where you'd be facing 30 years in a Federal prison. So, it's in your best interest to listen. And cooperate with me. Am I getting through to you?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Sandra said dismissively. She'd gotten out of legal scrapes before with no real trouble. There was no reason to assume she wouldn't this time. Unless it was murder, the system was pretty much an assembly line recycling the same people over and over. "When the fuck am I getting' outta here?" she said again with growing irritation.

Ashton shook her head in frustration. Cooperation was going to be hard to come by. "Sandra, your bail right now is $50,000 – outrageous, true, but a sign that they are taking this very! seriously! And you need to do the same. Now you have an arraignment and a bail hearing next Wednesday. At that time, the charges will be formally read, and you'll plead not guilty. Then I'll argue for a bail reduction, which you'll almost certainly get. $50,000 is outrageous. If I can get it below $5,000, I will be very surprised. So, after next Wednesday, you'll get out if you can find someone with $5,000 they'll risk on you."

"What? What the fuck is up with that shit?" Sandra cried. "That's fuckin' bullshit!"

"That's fucking reality, Sandra!" Ashton said sternly, her eyes glowing. God, how she hated dealing with the dregs of society like this woman.

Hearing an attorney swear in a raised voice was sobering to Sandra. Somewhat. "OK, so then what? No bail, then what?"

"You stay right here until someone does bail you, or you go to trial. And you're not going to trial. You go to trial, you are guaranteed a long prison term, because no jury on earth is going to buy whatever sob story you offer in defense. Now, speaking of sob stories, tell me your version of what went on so I can get to work on figuring out what we are going to do."

Sandra scowled. "It's all that no good cunt daughter of mine's fault, the rotten bitch! I shoulda had a fuckin' abortion, by Jesus! She thinks she's so fuckin' high and goddamn mighty, twitch her little ass and get what she wants. Well not in my house, that fuckin' shit don't fly, no fuckin' way."

Ashton thought briefly it was a damned good thing Sandra wasn't talking to someone from the DA's office just then. "Let's not worry about what you think about your daughter. What happened?"

"Me and my boyfriend Gerry was sittin' up in the apartment, mindin' our own business, drinkin' some beers, an' watchin' TV. Then, that cunt daughter of mine comes waltzin' in, just as big as Billy be damned, and she goes, 'I need some oxys Gerry, you got some?' An' he goes, 'Nah, I ain't got any of that shit, you know I don't do that stuff.' And the little fuckface goes, 'To hell you don't, I know you do.' An' next thing I know, some bitch come blastin' through the door, and she's like, got a baseball bat, an' Gerry, he jumps up and tries to get the bitch to leave, but she starts whalin' away, beatin' the shit outta him, I mean he's a tough guy, but fuck! a baseball bat? So Laci the cunt, she's kickin' on him, sayin' 'Where's the oxy?' An' the bitch stove in his face 'fore I got a knife and run them off. I was so worried about Gerry, I couldn't even call 911."

"So what about the drugs the police saw in plain sight?"

"Bull shit! They planted that shit! There weren't no fuckin' drugs in that house! None!"

"What about reports that your boyfriend hurt himself by falling and hitting his face on the banister? The blood all over that banister?"

"What of it? Maybe she didn't bash in his face, maybe it happened when he was chasin' her out and he tripped. I didn't see real clear."

Ashton sighed and rubbed her temples. This is what it was all reduced to, all the high hopes and idealism of law school, down to representing the scum of the earth for minimum wage, trying to free people who belonged in prison.

"OK Sandra," Ashton said. "That's all I need for now. If I have questions, we'll meet here again. Otherwise, I'll see you in court on Wednesday morning."

Snow, Karen thought, looking out the breakfast nook window. This had to be the snowiest winter she'd ever experienced, and it still wasn't mid-February. Now it was snowing again. Hard. She looked at Gail and shook her head slowly. "We're going to be digging out of this shit in June. How are the roads?"

Gail stared down at her coffee cup. "Crappy. You drive a frigging 10,000 pound tank, you have no right to worry about the roads."

Karen chuckled. "What time's that CPS woman supposed to be here?"

Gail sighed. "Nine thirty. And she will be here on time, shitty roads or not."

Karen glanced at her watch. "Plenty of time for a cigarette. Come out on the deck with me?"

Gail pushed her chair back. "Why not ... see the pretty snow," Gail said in a sarcastic sing-song voice.

"Laci," Karen called, moving toward the dining room. "Honey, I'm going out on the deck to have a cigarette, OK?"

"OK," Laci called back.

Karen and Gail stepped out onto the deck, an overhang providing them with cover. Karen took out a cigarette, and Gail suddenly said, "Gimme one."

"What?" Karen said, taken aback.

"You heard me. Gimme a cigarette woman."

"You're not drunk. Or did you knock back a few before you came out here." She gave Gail a cigarette.

"I'm a big girl. I can smoke a cigarette sober if I want to." Gail had had no idea how she was going to feel when she stepped through the door and saw them. Please don't let me see them kiss, she prayed to a god unknown. Hugs I can handle, but not kisses, that'll be a knife to my heart.

Gail accepted a light and took a deep drag. She'd quit smoking her last year of law school, when it was time to get serious and put the party days behind her. Now, she only smoked after she got half a dozen drinks under her belt. However, today was ... not ordinary.

"Gail," Karen said. "There's a 700 pound gorilla in the room, and we both see it..."

"Karen, please," Gail cut her off. "I'm in an OK place right now. Not great, but OK. Don't pull me out of it. Just..."

"Just what?"

Gail took another deep hit from her cigarette. "Just don't kiss her in front of me. I can handle hugs, but not kisses."

"OK," Karen said with a puzzled frown. "I hadn't planned on kissing her in front of you or anyone else."

"I'm just saying something like that would make me useless to you. You're lucky I didn't go out and get commode hugging drunk last night."

"Gail, why don't you have a girlfriend? You're a beautiful woman, you're sexy, you're well-off, you're..."

"For starters, an insufferable bitch, short-tempered, impatient, a workaholic, stubborn..."

"Oh for Christ's sake Gail! All that's bullshit and you know it."

"Karen, this is a path I don't want to go down right now. Let's go in and finish our coffee before I freeze. I don't have meat on my bones in case you haven't noticed. Then I want to talk to Laci for a minute or two before Nancy gets here."

Laci sat at the dining room table, her knees drawn up, and her hair spilling around her face. She had her sketchbook and the box of colored pencils opened, and she was focused on what she was drawing. She'd thought about doing a sketch of Karen, but she didn't think could do it properly just yet, and she didn't want to do it until she could do it right. Karen deserved better than that. Instead, the Teddy bear sat next to her as a model, and she patiently sketched it out.

Laci was mildly surprised that working on a sketch really did distract her, focus her attention, and give her pleasure. It also surprised her how naturally it came to her, and truth be told, it looked pretty good.

When Karen called out that she was going on the deck with Gail to have a cigarette, Laci straightened and stretched like a cat waking from a nap. She pushed her hair back from her face, wondering vaguely whether she ought to put it in a pony-tail. A stronger thought intruded. What were Karen and Gail talking about on the deck? Laci knew something had gone on between them yesterday, something she wasn't privy to, and that filled her with anxiety. Then this morning, she noticed Gail was very subdued, even a little sad.

Laci shook her head and refocused on her drawing. It was bad enough having to worry about the welfare department lady coming to talk to them and inspect the place; she didn't need to get worked up about Karen and Gail. She knew Karen loved her, not Gail – that much was certain – so it was foolish to worry about what might or might not be going on between them.

Laci studied the bear. It wore a threadbare pink ribbon around it's neck as a scarf, and a pink t-shirt with a small heart embroidered over where the bear's own heart must be. She took it in and turned back to her sketch. The pencil made a soft scuffing sound as she drew it back and forth over the coarse sketch pad, and with each stroke, the bear came closer to life on the paper.

The girls at school would probably tease her relentlessly if they knew she had a Teddy bear she liked to hold when she was stressed. It was the nature of things that those same girls probably had their own secret bears, or dolls, or some such talisman. The bear didn't have its own real name yet. For lack of anything better, Laci called her Paddington. (In Laci's mind, the bear was unquestionably female.)

She put the regular pencil down and picked up a pink one. Just as she started sketching again, she became aware that Karen and Gail had come into the room. Karen came behind Laci and put her hands on the girl's shoulders. "Lost in space, sweetie?" she smiled.

Laci smiled up at her. "I was just drawing the bear and didn't hear you come in."

Karen glanced at the drawing. "Wow," she enthused, "That's amazing baby! Gail, take a look. Didn't I tell you she was talented?"

Gail looked over and nodded her head, impressed. "That is pretty amazing. I think it's something we want Nancy to see."

Gail sat down in the chair next to Laci. "Laci, honey," she said softly. "I want to go over some things with you. No, don't worry, it's not a bunch of last minute stuff you have to memorize." Gail covered Laci's hands with her own.

She looked directly at Laci and said, "First, it's important for you to be polite, OK? You don't have to be friendly, just polite. Most of the kids she deals with are rude, crude, and pissed off at the world. They either give her grief or don't talk at all. If you're polite and you answer her questions, it can only reflect good on you and Karen, OK? Good.

"Now being polite doesn't mean you have to be talkative. When she asks a question, just answer the question, no more. For example, if she asks what your favorite color is, say 'Pink, ' not 'Pink, but sometimes I like blue, and other times yellow.' Don't volunteer stuff, OK?"

Laci reached over and grabbed the bear. She nodded. "I understand."

They looked at each other closely, steadily. There was something in those eyes, in that face, that told Gail this girl wasn't as helpless and naïve as she first appeared. A lifetime living in the cesspool that was Laci's world would do that to a girl. "She's going to want to talk to you alone at some point. Same rules, polite but don't volunteer information. And you can – probably should – keep the bear with you, OK?"

Laci nodded. "I just wish it was over."

"Soon honey. I really don't think you have anything to worry about."

Before Laci could answer, the doorbell rang.

She was a rotund little woman, with neatly styled short hair, who looked oddly elfin in her winter coat, scarf, and wool hat. A line from a television commercial for a toy from her childhood popped into Karen's head: "Weebles wobble but the don't fall down." The woman held out a laminated badge. "Ms. Nelson? I'm Nancy Mathieu from Child Protective Services."

"Get in here before you freeze to death," Karen said stepping aside.

"Oh, thank you, it is nasty out there."

"Let me take your coat and scarf," Karen said, helping Mathieu with her outerwear and her briefcase. "You can put your boots where the others are. I didn't know what size shoe you wore, so I found a pair of one-size-fits-all scuffies for you." She pointed at a pair of bland, well-worn slippers.

"Oh my," Mathieu said. "You didn't have to do that."

"Well, I figured your feet might like to warm up a bit."

"Thank you, ma'am.'

Mathieu looked up and spied Gail. Her eyes lit up. "Gail! What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you. Personal or professional?"

Gail held her hand out. "Hi Nancy. A little of both. Karen and I are old friends, and I've represented her in the past. When circumstances started to go south, she naturally gave me a call for some ... advice. Karen, Nancy and I have worked cases together in the past, so we know each other reasonably well."

Karen knew this, but she understood Gail's purpose in repeating it. "That might make things a little easier."

"Ms. Nelson," Mathieu said a bit more formally. "I presume you know why I'm here. To evaluate the living arrangements for Laci Harper, so we can come up with a plan to ensure her best interests."

Karen nodded. "Yes, I'm aware of that."

"Can I meet Laci?"

"Absolutely. I believe she's in the dining room working on a project." Karen led them into the dining room. "Laci? Honey, this is Ms. Mathieu, the lady from Child Protective Services Gail told you about."

Laci took a deep breath and stood up, automatically offering her hand. The moments when she faced her interrogators were the worst. It felt as if her entire future hung on her giving a correct answer to any number of rigged questions, like high-wire walker performing without a net on a subtly jiggling line. The lady seemed nice enough, but she was from the state, so like the cops she couldn't really be trusted no matter how nice she looked. Laci squirmed uncomfortably and tugged at the bear, waiting for the inquisition to begin.

To Laci's eternal amazement, the whole ordeal was relatively brief. The state lady introduced herself, and asked if it was OK for Laci to show her her room ... alone. Karen didn't object, so Laci led the lady upstairs to the room they'd set up as hers. Karen had had her make the room look lived in by tossing some clothes over the back of the chair, and scattering some of her school books over the desktop.

Mathieu looked around and nodded. She casually asked Laci, "Is this where you do your homework, dear?"

"No," Laci said simply.

"Where do you do it?"

"Downstairs in the dining room so Karen can help me when I need it."

"Does she help you?"

"Oh yeah, all the time, 'specially with math, which I have a hard time getting."

"You don't like math, I take it. What are your favorite classes?"

"Art. And English. I like to draw and read, and Karen says I ought to start keeping a journal."

Mathieu looked in the closet, where a decent sized wardrobe hung neatly on hangers. "Nice and neat. Does Ms. Nelson do that?"

"No, I do. I'm not a slob, I like things neat, I hate messes. My -- mother's -- my old apartment was a fricken disgusting dump." Laci shuddered at the memory. "It was just gross."