I think that means no. I realize where we are now. We’re in Children’s Prison. Just like Hannah said.
My whole life I’ve imagined Children’s Prison, and now I’m right in the middle of it. I thought I would be afraid, but I can be brave. I am here with an army from France.
“Mr. Scott?” says the brown-hat lady. “I think they’re ready for you.”
As we stand up, everything turns gold—the hallway, the lady, me and Uncle Donny. I look down at my hands and they’re shining, with light coming out from the ends of every fingertip.
“Mr. Scott, I have to be honest with you, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea for her to come in,” says the brown-hat lady.
“Ah. Is he having a—a bad day?” asks Uncle Donny.
She sucks her teeth and shakes her head. “Well, you know how he can get,” she says. “But then, it’d be a shame for her to come all this way and not see her brother.”
The whole room is gold, shining gold. “I want to go,” I say, walking through the golden room.
“Aoife…” Uncle Donny says.
“I want to go,” I say again. There are people singing very softly, I think. It’s beautiful.
“All right. C’mere, squirt,” says Uncle Donny. He picks me up and walks down the hallway behind the lady. She presses the button and the light turns color, and I know it must be green, but it looks gold because everything is gold.
Uncle Donny is saying something, but I can’t hear him because of the music. It sounds a little like the organ at church and a little like standing right next to Mac’s speakers when they’re turned all the way up.
Behind the desk, the lady has three televisions. Uncle Donny carries me past before I can get a good look, but they’re not showing anything good, just fuzzy pictures of people. We go through the door and I feel the ground shiver when it closes behind us, even though I can’t hear it. In the room behind us, I know the light must be turning from green to red.
On the other side of the door, there’s a hallway with tiles just like at the hospital. They’re probably white, but all I can see is gold, gold, gold. The smell is stronger here. Another person in brown, a man this time, is sitting in a chair. As we walk I hear what sounds like trumpets, so loud that it makes me want to clap my hands over my ears, although I don’t because I know it would make everybody ask questions. I can tell from their faces that nobody else hears the trumpets but me. They sound happy, like the school bell at the end of the day. They get louder and faster, and then with the last note the trumpets all stop at once, and I can hear Uncle Donny breathing again, and the whirring of what is probably the air conditioning, and the sound of a door closing far away. Only the beautiful soft singing carries on, quietly in the background. But everything is still bright gold, and me, Uncle Donny, and all the worker people are all glowing.
The man behind the counter has a bin in front of him. Uncle Donny takes his wallet and keys out of his pocket and puts them in.
“Step through,” says the man. He’s got a bunch of TVs in front of him, too.
Uncle Donny boosts me higher to walk through what looks like a turnstile at the zoo.
“Don’t give Theodore anything,” says the man. “Understand?”
“Got it,” says Uncle Donny. He doesn’t put me down, even though I’m a big girl and I can walk.
“Straight down this hallway, then go through the glass doors on your left.”
We couldn’t get lost because there’s a gold stripe right down the hallway, getting lighter and lighter until it almost hurts my eyes to look at it.
“All right, Aoife,” says Uncle Donny.
“Uncle Donny, can you put me down?” I ask.
“Sure, kiddo.” Uncle Donny bends down low enough that my feet touch the ground, and when I’m standing again he holds his hand out for me to take. The floor is still glowing gold, like I’m standing on top of a cloud full of sunshine, but it feels normal under my feet.
He puts his hand on a door, and although he can’t see it, the door lights up like Christmas lights, so bright I have to look away. I know the saints have led me here, and this is their way of showing me we’re almost there. Unlike the other times I saw them, they don’t give me any directions to follow. They’re just cheering me on, I think.
“I see you,” I whisper under my breath. Then, to Uncle Donny, I say, “Go ahead, open it.”
So Uncle Donny pushes the glass door open and we go inside together.
As soon as we step inside, the colors are all normal again and even the quiet singing stops. I guess because we’re here. The room is just an ordinary place, like one of the classrooms at school or Dr. Pearlman’s office. There’s a table and chairs, and a window behind the table, except you can’t see out of it because the glass is thick and there’s wire mesh inside. Everything has that same cleaning smell, only even stronger.
It’s hard to see because of the window, and my eyes are still adjusting, but I realize there’s a boy sitting at the table. We walk further into the room, and I can see him properly. He looks kind of like the last picture in our hallway, and kind of not. He got a little fatter. His face is round and his hair is short. His skin is red and splotchy across his nose and his cheeks. He’s wearing soft fabric pants like pajamas and a soft gray shirt.
“Hello, Theo,” says Uncle Donny.
And just like that, it’s a miracle—my brother, who was dead, has been brought back to life.
“Hi,” he says, and his voice is low, not like—not at all like I pictured it.
“It’s been a while, I know. You remember your sister?”
His eyes, just like Mama’s, leave Uncle Donny and turn to me.
I can’t tell if I really remember him, or if I’ve just looked at his photographs so many times that I feel like I do. I’ve always known my whole life that I had a brother, but I don’t really have too many memories of all the things we must have done together. He’s just been the boy in the picture for so long.
“Aoife.” He says it just perfect, like only Mama can say it.
“Well, it’s been a long time since you two were together,” says Uncle Donny. “Aoife, do you want to sit down?”
I take the seat that he pulled out for me, barely looking down at it. I can’t stop staring at my brother. It’s like looking at a dinosaur or the tooth fairy—those seem about as likely as seeing Theo again.
His hands, on the table, are big, with little hairs on the knuckles. My brother.
“I can’t believe you’re real life,” I say.
“Yes, I feel that way too sometimes,” he agrees softly. He looks back at Uncle Donny. “Are you here to talk about the hearing? They were supposed to call Ma about it, but I never heard what she said.”
“The hearing of what?” I say.
“Do you mean another assessment?” says Uncle Donny. “Because that … didn’t go so well last time.”
“No, they already did the assessment. This is the real thing. They’re going to decide if I can stay here, or if they can punt me over to juvenile court.”
“What?—okay, okay, let me, ah, let me get back to you on that,” says Uncle Donny. He looks upset.
I’m still not sure what we’re hearing about.
“Thanks,” says Theo quietly. He plays with his fingers just like I do, and then looks up at me.
We have the same nose, the same eyes.
I remember—
“So, you’ve grown,” he says.
“I have?”
“A little, anyway. But I would still know you if I saw you.”
That is a good feeling. I want him to know me.
“Do you remember once, when we went to the beach and I got lost?” I say. That is my first, best memory of Theo. “And you came and found me.”
Theo squinted. “A beach? Are you sure it was me?”
I remember his hand reaching for me. His red swimsuit, his face. It must have been him.
I try to think of something else. “Do you remember when
we were hiding from the shouting man downstairs? And we ran to a closet to hide.”
Uncle Donny clears his throat. “Maybe we can think of some happier memories,” he says.
“It wasn’t a closet,” says Theo. “It was the bathroom.”
“You do remember!” I remember how Theo put his arm over my shoulder because I was scared, and then I felt safe. I was scared that the shouting man would come upstairs and find us. “We hid until it was quiet, and the man went away.”
And I remember two boys, standing on a rock in the rain …
“That was Uncle Mac downstairs,” says Theo.
What? It wasn’t Mac who was so loud and scary. Was it?
But I remember the sound of that plate shattering into a thousand pieces, too many to ever glue together, and I remember Mama crying on the floor with her face in her hands … and I remember … Theo—
Two boys, standing on a rock in the rain …
“They were fighting about me. I guess you don’t remember. Mac and I never got along too well.”
“Why not?”
“Mostly because he wasn’t my father, I guess.”
“I knew that!” I’m excited to know things. “Before Mac, Mama used to have a different special friend. And his name was Ben and he was a Marine.”
“Where did you hear that?” Uncle Donny asks me.
I make a face and don’t answer.
“My father was a hero,” says Theo. “Mac is half the man he was.”
“Mac is my father,” I say.
“All right, let’s just try to have an easy visit, okay? Who has something nice to say?” says Uncle Donny.
I can’t think of anything nice to say.
“I thought you died,” I say, even though it may not be the nicest thing ever. “I thought you were dead, all this time.”
Uncle Donny groans.
Theo rubs his face just like Uncle Donny. “Not dead, just gone,” he says. “I guess it’s almost the same sometimes.”
“But Mr. Rutledge told me that you were alive, and I asked Uncle Donny, and he said it was true. So I wanted to see you myself and see if it was real, and it was.”
“Wait, what? When the hell did you talk to Mr. Rutledge?” asks Uncle Donny. “You didn’t tell me that.”
But I don’t look away from Theo.
“Mr. Rutledge, eh,” says Theo quietly.
“Let’s not start this,” says Uncle Donny. “We are not here to get into the past today, right?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“He’s talking about Neddy,” says Theo. “That’s Mr. Rutledge’s grandson. You must have heard a lot about Ned by now.”
Ned … Slater?
Suddenly I remember the sound of the apple candle, the hollow clunk of it when it hit the rocks and shattered.
“This not why we’re here,” says Uncle Donny.
But I think that’s why I’m here.
“Didn’t they tell you?” asks Theo. “Surely someone told you what I did?”
Two boys standing on the rock in the rain. A bigger one and a smaller one …
“I remember you fighting,” I say. “At the Secret Place, the big rock in the park.”
“Okay, I think maybe we should try this again another day,” says Uncle Donny, getting up.
Theo is staring at me. “How did you know we called it that? You were too little to remember.”
“I remember,” I say.
“Theo, stop,” says Uncle Donny.
“It’s true,” says Theo. “We went to the creek, and Ma was having one of her bad days; she made me take Aoife. I didn’t want to. I was angry at Mac. We were fighting that morning. And Ned was being a jerk about it. He kept saying I should give Mac a chance.”
“And it started to rain,” I say. “I remember.”
“You started to cry and—and Neddy laughed, and I—I lost my temper. I just—”
“You pushed him,” I say.
His arms make circles in the air as he falls back, and I watch his sneakers—red, with a white stripe around the edge and white laces—as they slide backwards, the toes lifting up, and he—falls.
“I killed him,” says Theo.
There’s a crack that sounds like a watermelon hitting the ground at the church picnic.
Stay right there, Aoife. Don’t look.
“Aoife, we’re going to have to leave,” says Uncle Donny. He puts his hand on my shoulder.
But I am only looking at Theo, who is only looking at me. His face is wet. “I didn’t mean to, Aoife,” he says. “I just—I was just blowing off steam, but he was so close to the edge, I didn’t—I didn’t realize how close he was to the edge. The rock was wet. I tried to catch him. But he—he fell.”
“What?” says Uncle Donny.
Theo puts his face in his hands.
This is why Mama hasn’t been able to come home, because of this secret, sitting right on her chest. I just know it.
“Theo, you told everyone you killed him,” says Uncle Donny. “You never told anyone any of this. You told the police you were angry, that you shoved him off the rock.”
“I did,” says Theo softly. “I pushed him, and he fell. It was my fault. It’s my fault he’s dead.”
“But you didn’t—Theo, if it was an accident, that’s different,” says Uncle Donny. He walks around and kneels down next to Theo and puts his hand over his. “That’s not the same as murder.”
“It was still my fault,” says Theo. “Teddy deserved a better friend than me.”
But … “I thought you said his name was Ned,” I say. “Why are you calling him Teddy?”
“His name was Edward,” Theo explains, wiping his eyes. “Ned can be a nickname for Edward, but so is Teddy. It was an inside joke, because Teddy can be a nickname for Theodore, too.”
That’s what Dr. Pearlman said, that Teddy can be short for Theodore. But we never called him Teddy.
Teddy. The boy with the rocket ship.
“Theo, if there’s a hearing, we’ll be there with you,” says Uncle Donny, who has taken his phone out. “But you have to tell them what you told us. And whether it’s good or bad, we’ll get through it together.”
And that’s true. He means it literally. I can tell.
* * *
When we have to leave, we cross the parking lot without a word. Uncle Donny is walking almost too fast for me to keep up. He unlocks the door with the button. I get in the front seat instead of the back and I do up the buckle myself. He doesn’t stop me, just starts up the car.
For a long time we drive without a word. I know I solved the whole mystery at last—and that means Mama is coming home now. I close my eyes and say an extra-special thank-you to Blessed Saint Margaret and Saint Michael, because they helped me be brave just like Joan of Arc.
“He’s never talked about it, ever,” says Uncle Donny. “He never said what happened, other than he killed Neddy. Never gave any explanation.” He shakes his head. “We all believed he had some kind of break. The doctors said he was—that he was dangerous, that he didn’t know what he was doing. And all this time…”
I think about pushing Hannah down on the grass. I don’t want to think about it anymore. “What’s a hearing?” I ask.
Uncle Donny sighs. “That’s when people get together in a room and make an official decision together,” he says. “You see, last time they assessed Theo, it—it didn’t go so well. There are people who wanted to try Theo in criminal court, as an adult.”
“For pushing Ned Slater?”
“Yes, for pushing him so that he died. If he did that on purpose because he was angry, that would have been murder. That didn’t happen last time, but it came close, and it was very upsetting to your ma. But this is … this is good news. What Theo said today. If he can say that again when the people are making their official decision, that would be great.”
“And Mama would be happy too?”
“Yes, your ma would be … very happy. Very, very happy.”
> That would make all of us happy.
“I can’t wait for Mama to come home,” I say. “This time it’s going to be soon, for real.”
I don’t tell him how I know. But I do.
DCF Form 2-1, Investigation Summary—CPP-X-A-1-2.1
List of Interviews—see attachment 2-1A
Subject: Scott, Aoife (mother, Siobhan Scott)
Current Guardian: Donovan Scott—See Attachment 2-1B
Determination of the preparer:
Yes
No
Appropriate resources and social support available to the family. Adequate time/resources to complete thorough investigation.
✓
Family had history of referrals to CPS. Notes: Related to past incident, 4 years prior. Child removed from home.
✓
Caregiver cooperative with investigation.
✓
Basic needs appeared to be met.
✓
Satisfactory condition of home.
✓
Collaterals gave relatively positive reports about family.
✓
Current issues of domestic violence in family.
✓
A preponderance of evidence of child abuse or neglect is found. Notes: The level of care provided seems to currently be adequate despite documented limitations.
✓
Notes: Caretakers are willing to participate in parenting skills program or other services to improve parenting or initiate appropriate services for parenting without referral by the department.
Outcome: Assist in voluntary participation in community-based services commensurate with low risk level.
This report is considered closed.
Chapter Sixteen
When we get home, I run right up the sidewalk in case Mama is already home. I don’t want to miss her for a second longer, and now that we solved the mystery, I know she’s coming home.
I look through all the rooms, but she’s not here yet. That’s okay. I know she’ll be here soon.
All That's Bright and Gone (ARC) Page 21