catching all the child killers?” I demand in a shaky voice as I yank my hand from under hers. “Or dealing with the pimps and the child prostitutes on the Berlin Turnpike? Aren’t they more pressing cases than my son?”
Susan says nothing, but something flickers across her face that makes me think she’s heard this a thousand times before. I know I said as much myself, a year ago, but I mean it so much more now, when my life is about to be ripped open, torn apart. Why me, and not them?
“Well?” My voices rises querulously. “Why aren’t you?”
“The Department of Children and Families deals with many different cases,” Susan answers in a quiet, steady voice that suggests she has said this exact phrase many times before. “Some are more severe than others. No one is comparing you to anyone else, Beth. No one is saying you are a bad mother.”
“Oh, right. Because good mothers get their kids taken away from them.” I let out a huff of laughter that sounds too much like a sob. I know I am close to breaking down, and I really don’t want to do that. I want to be strong, for my son.
“Let us work with you,” Susan persists. “Together we can build a care plan for Dylan that you’re happy with, working to ensure that he is back with you as soon as possible.”
I shake my head slowly, but already I feel myself weakening. It’s so hard to fight when it’s only me, and what’s the point of fighting, anyway? They’ll take him away no matter how much I resist. They have that power.
And more than any of that, deep down I know I need help, no matter how scared I am to accept it. I know I can’t go on like this, day after day, year after year, exhausted and overwhelmed and alone. All along I’ve known that, even as I’ve done my best not to think about it, even as I hope that somehow, miraculously, things will get better on their own.
But I’m afraid if I let Susan take Dylan away from me, things will change forever. I’ll never get him back, or, if I do, he’ll hate me. He’ll resent me for having given him up. And what if I have DCF breathing down my neck for the rest of my life because of this one slip? Once in the system…
“I’m scared,” I whisper, hating that I can’t keep myself from saying it.
“I know.” Susan nods in sympathy. “You feel powerless. I understand that, Beth, I really do. But you will continue to be involved in Dylan’s life, and all the decisions regarding his care. You can see the house where he is placed, and meet his foster carers. You can be involved in every step of the way.”
I nod, gulping back tears, trying to hold it together. Am I actually thinking of agreeing to this? What choice do I have? Against me, Dylan lets out a breathy sigh and nestles closer. I feel a physical pain, a tearing in my chest. Am I having a heart attack? I try not to gasp out loud.
“You can do this whether I agree or not,” I manage to get out. “Can’t you?”
Susan pauses before she replies. “I have made arrangements for an emergency hold,” she admits finally. “It lasts for ninety-six hours. After that, we’d have to go to court, unless you agree to a voluntary placement for Dylan, which is what I think would be best in this situation.”
And which was exactly what Marco wanted to do, all those years ago. Just give our son away like a raffle prize. But how can I do it now? It feels like such a betrayal of Dylan.
“We want to help you, Beth,” Susan says yet again. “Truly, we do. And you have time to think. I can come to your home tomorrow, and go over everything with you.”
Tomorrow, when Dylan might be gone. I sniff loudly, trying not to cry.
“Why don’t I drive you back to your apartment,” Susan suggests. “You can pack a bag for Dylan and explain to him what is going to happen. There will be some paperwork to sign, and then we can take him together to his placement. It’s already been arranged. There’s a very nice family waiting and ready to take care of him.”
It’s already been arranged. A sound escapes me, a sort of tortured gasp. My vision blurs and I don’t know whether it’s