She was not a Jehovah’s Witness. She had a face like a Twinkie, cover-up caking her acne scars, lips like petals pushed together, a baby’s mouth, her bad shoe scraping mud on my kitchen counter, and I won’t forget how she smelled, amazing. Slapped across the face by a spring day. She was like the overgrown kid on Halloween who doesn’t wear a costume. She brought me dread, and she was there to rob me.
“Are you Lily Marshall?” she asked. “The parent of Perley Marshall?”
“What’s this about?” I asked, but polite.
“I’m here from Children’s Services,” she said. “There was a report at school.” Was she nineteen, was she twenty? Was she from the college in town? There were students, I knew, eager to go into the community. They loved the community. I was the community. I’d heard of such things. I’d tried not to imagine them.
“A report at school,” I said. “A report at school about what?”
“Surely you can tell me what you think there might have been a report about,” she said. She was a straight-A student. She was the top of her class. She smelled amazing and I knew her voice. She was only a kid but her voice was the voice of my own mother, who would circle me with a sweet smile on her face, and then pounce. She would pounce and my grandma would have to hold her back.
“I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what you mean,” I said. And I didn’t.
“Perley says he was bit by a snake in his own bed,” the girl said. “We have to check on things like that.” From deep within the pocket of her sweatshirt, she drew a slick rectangle, a tablet. She brought it to life. She tapped on it, her fingers red from the cold. I didn’t stir the stew. I didn’t tend the fire. I didn’t invite her inside. She was ten feet from the house and blind to it. Blind to it the same way she’d been blind to my kitchen counter.
But this was a time for catch more flies with honey. This was a time for give the woman, the kid, whatever she is, give her what she wants. She loves me, the community. Give her what she wants and gasp for air once she’s gone.
“You know how boys are,” I said. “All kinds of scrapes and bites and bruises. At least he’s healing well.” I smiled to show I had nothing to hide. I smiled to hide my heart, struggling to escape from my chest. My cheeks broke ice when they lifted.
“You kept him home for three weeks, I understand,” she said, not smiling back.
“We didn’t want to expose him to all those germs at school,” I said.
“Did you take him to a doctor?” she asked.
“My partner is a nurse,” I said.
“Your partner?” she asked, fingers over her screen.
“My partner. My domestic partner,” I said the words. “Perley’s other mother.”
She tapped.
“Your partner’s name?” she asked.
“Karen Sweeney,” I said.
“But you are Perley’s real mother?” she asked. When I didn’t reply, she said, “Sorry. His biological mother?”
“I gave birth to Perley,” I said. I wasn’t an idiot. I’d heard about this. I’d heard it whispered between women, passed among families. I’d feared it. But I hadn’t practiced. I hadn’t prepared my comments. I had nothing to hide but that’s not how it felt. Still, I tried to draw the honey into my mouth.
“I nursed that boy as long as he’d let me,” I said, smiling. She looked at me. “Which is recommended by the World Health Organization,” I said.
“What is?” she asked.
“Breastfeeding as long as possible,” I said.
“I see,” she said, tapped.
“My partner is a nurse,” I said. “So she keeps up on these things.”
“Is your partner the one who decided that Perley didn’t need medical attention for the snakebite?” she asked.
“She’s a nurse,” I said.
“Ms. Sweeney works at the hospital?” she asked.
“She used to work at Community Health,” I said.
“She’s unemployed?” she asked.
“She takes care of Perley while I work,” I said.
“Perley also said he lives alone,” she said. “He says he lives in his own house, without adult supervision.”
“Did he say that?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“He’s definitely supervised,” I said. She was a girl, I decided, a girl or not much older than one. She slipped her tablet into her pocket.
“Ms. Marshall. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go inside,” the girl said. “It’s getting cold out here. I’d like to have a talk with Perley. I’d like to see