CVS. Dylan is melting down about Twizzlers, and this time I don’t shout, I don’t grab his wrist, and, best of all, there’s no incontinent do-gooder calling the DCF hotline. If only…
But it’s pointless to think like that. It just hurts, and I need to focus on the here and now. I can’t waste time on regrets, not when so much is at stake.
“Perhaps it would help if I showed you a blank contract?” Susan suggests.
Without waiting for my answer, she takes a sheaf of papers from her bag. She lays them on the table and the small print swims before my eyes. I can barely make sense of even the simplest sentences. I’m too tired and overwhelmed, and I know I’ll make a mistake somewhere in all this fine print. A costly mistake.
“I want a lawyer before I look at this,” I say as I push the papers towards her. “I know you say you mean well, Susan, but I don’t actually trust you, and I’m not ready to sign my child’s life away without professional advice.” I am proud of that reasoned speech, even though my voice trembles as I give it.
Susan stares at me for a moment, her expression opaque. Her smile has finally slipped and she just looks weary. The sunshine streaming through the windows highlights the gray in her neat bob, the lines scored deeply from nose to mouth. It occurs to me that she must have a very difficult job, but I can’t afford to feel sympathy for her now.
“Very well,” she says after a moment. “I’ll give you the name of the legal service I mentioned before.” She fishes in her bag before she finds a card and pushes it across to me.
“Thank you.”
Susan puts the papers back in her bag. “I’ll be in touch after you’ve been able to speak to a lawyer. Shall I call you tomorrow?”
I nod. Tomorrow it will be forty-eight hours since she took Dylan, and Susan has only ninety-six before DCF has to give Dylan back. At least, I think that’s how it works, but the truth is, I don’t really know. Maybe they can pull some other order or summons out of their horrible magic hat, and keep him for longer. Forever.
“Do you have children, Susan?” I ask suddenly, and she pauses before she answers. I wonder if there is some rule about case workers sharing personal details. She must deal with some real psychos, but I’m not one of them.
“Yes, I do,” she says. “I have a daughter. She’s twenty-one years old. I adopted her when she was four.”
“Oh.” I don’t know how to feel about that. What happened to her daughter’s birth mother? Did Susan adopt a child like Dylan, who’d been sucked into the system? Just the possibility fills me with terror. I am not going to lose Dylan, not for a few weeks, and certainly not forever.
As I say goodbye to Susan, I am filled with renewed purpose. I’m going to fight.
When I call the legal aid service Susan recommended, though, there isn’t anyone available to speak to me until next week, which fills me with frustration.
“That’s too late,” I tell the monotone-voiced receptionist on the line. “DCF has my child for just ninety-six hours. I need someone now.”
“After ninety-six hours, DCF will have to file a motion for an order of temporary custody,” she drones.
“I know, that’s what I want to avoid—”
“At which point you will be granted a lawyer through the court.”
“I know,” I say again, frustration audible in my voice. My fingers ache from clenching my phone so tightly. “I want a lawyer to look over a voluntary placement contract before we have to go to court—”
“There will be someone available to contact you next week.”
I end up slamming the phone down, and then I wonder if someone somewhere is making a note about that. Defendant ended call in a hostile manner. I don’t know if I’m being paranoid or naïve, and the uncertainty is tearing me apart. I am second-guessing everything I do, suspicious of everyone around me. It’s impossible to live this way without cracking up.
I decide to go for a walk, to clear my head. I walk towards the town center, and it feels strange to be on my own, arms swinging at my sides, instead of with Dylan’s hand in mine, his shadow trotting darkly next to mine.
West Hartford’s town center is full of pedestrians on a Wednesday morning, doing errands or having a coffee,