She opened the cooler and spread her birthday lunch out on her towel. She had pimento cheese and crackers, Purple Haze beer, and a piece of red velvet cake. Mindlessly, she scooped out the pimento cheese with her cracker and ate while she watched the other people on the beach. It was a perfect beach day, around eighty degrees, and the beach was packed with families, friends, and couples. She was the only one alone.
Emery would always be alone.
A few months ago, she’d been searching the internet when she’d come across a quote from Stephen King that she believed ruled her life. He’d indicated the word “alone,” was the worst word in the English language. He’d said murder didn’t “hold a candle to it and hell was a poor synonym.” His statement was the deepest truth she’d ever read. Emery couldn’t imagine a life worse than the one she lived, other than living with Phil.
She’d never get to just go to the beach with friends. She’d never have a family. It made everything seem worthless and unnecessary, like maybe her life would be better back in Atlanta. As soon as she had those thoughts, she realized what being alone did. It made her perspective and memory skewed.
She turned up her beer, yearning for numbness.
Later that evening, Emery pulled her car into a spot down the street and walked slowly to her house, not knowing what she would see when she got there. Ms. Carter’s lights were on, so she knocked. After a few minutes, the old woman opened the door and Dixie ran around her feet.
“Hi, dear,” Ms. Carter said with a smile. “Come in and let me get you some tea and cookies.”
Emery smiled at the woman who just assumed everyone would want tea and cookies. “How are you?”
“Oh, thank you so much for calling for me today and getting help. I fainted. I haven’t done that in years.”
“But you’re okay?” Emery just stood there, uncomfortable and not knowing what to do.
“Sure, honey.” Ms. Carter walked over to the couch and motioned for Emery to sit. “I’m glad we’re finally getting a chance to talk. You’ve been busy since you’ve been here.”
Emery suddenly felt very bad she hadn’t taken the time to speak with Ms. Carter more than a cursory greeting. “I work a lot.”
“I know dear. You work for DFCS, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Emery took a sip of her tea and tried not to grimace at its syrupy sweetness.
“What else?” Ms. Carter eyed her over her peanut butter cookie.
“Excuse me?”
“What else do you do, dear? From what I see, it’s not much.” She put the cookie down on a plate colored with exotic flowers.
Emery was silent at the rudeness of this woman.
“Dear, you have to excuse me,” Ms. Carter said sweetly. “I’m old and don’t have the constitution or inclination to hold my tongue. I wasn’t always this way. I just meant, you’re a precious young thing and you never have any friends over except that black-headed hellion. Are you one of those lesbians?”
Emery looked down at her hands so she wouldn’t burst out laughing at the audacity of this woman. She stood up. “Listen, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Emery walked over to the door and turned the knob.
“Emma, I just don’t want you to end up like me, dear. Take today, for example. When something happens to me, no one knows or cares. It takes the kindness of a stranger to make sure I’m okay.” She looked up at Emery. “You don’t want that.”
Emery nodded and closed the door behind her. She wondered why Ms. Carter was by herself. Was she always a solitary person or did something force her to build barriers around herself?
Happy twentieth slash twenty-third birthday.
Alone. Hell.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Ice Cream Can Make Anything Better
She had been doing her job for a while now and was getting more comfortable with it. Emery’s goal hadn’t changed—she wanted to help one kid every single day. Most days she felt like she did that.
Twelve people sat around the table and she was the youngest of them all, even at her pretend age. Lucas’s mom didn’t even bother to show up. Emery was sitting next to the lead special education teacher at Lucas’s elementary school. On the other side of her was one of the administrators who thought Lucas was deaf. It really pissed her off, because that just showed they didn’t care about him. She’d already had several aggressive discussions with the administrators about this and they had no good explanation as to why the school didn’t realize he wasn’t deaf the first time she’d been called to the school, especially since there was proof in his file that he’d passed a hearing test. And even if he was deaf, they hadn’t provided any amount of resources to ensure he was accessing the curriculum. There was no interpreter, nothing. She’d thought about contacting a public defender to sue the school.
Because school was ending, they were developing his individual education plan for the next school year. The IEP explains what services the school must provide in order for Lucas to make progress toward the goals decided by the team. Due to his deficits, they had to go over his current performance in school, his behavior, and any changes they need to make to the plan in order to make sure Lucas gets what he needs educationally.
It’d been two hours of discussing grades, his evaluation, and the lack of ideas about what set Lucas off behaviorally at school. She was exhausted and her head was spinning from information overload.
“We need to figure out why he goes off, though, right? I mean, when he snaps, he just goes crazy,” his teacher said, exasperated. “It’s not safe for the other kids.”
“Well, isn’t that your job?” Emery snapped.
The teacher’s eyes cut to Emery. “What?”
“Isn’t it your job? I don’t mean you as the teacher, but as a district, aren’t you supposed to be able to tell us why he reacts to certain things?”
“We probably do need a FBA,” the special education coordinator said, nodding to Emery.
“What’s that?” Emery asked. That was a new acronym.
“It’s a functional behavioral assessment. We conduct these so we can see what behavior we need to address and take data on the antecedent behavior so we can better teach coping skills and use intervening strategies so that the destructive behavior doesn’t happen.”
Emery sighed in relief. “Yes, let’s do that please.”
That set off a discussion about his behavior and the need to put him in a room by himself so that he couldn’t harm himself or others when he was having a quote-unquote “episode.”
“Listen, I’m aware that I know the least at this table,” Emery started, “but is there any way we can let him just have a minute before he gets to that point? I mean, I’ve never seen him destroy things with me and I’ve been trying to observe him in different places to see if there’s something that’s a trigger for this sort of aggression.”
“Well, we know that there are things going on in the home that don’t help his situation,” another nameless person around the table said.
“I have to tell you, I think he’s fantastic,” Emery said, and meant it. “He’s smart and inquisitive and really sweet, despite his circumstances. How does he communicate with you at school?”
“He writes,” his teacher answered.
“Don’t you have some sort of assistive technology to help with that? Maybe he could type in what he wants to say and it would say it out loud?” Emery asked.
The room was quiet.
“What?” Emery looked around. “He needs to be able to communicate.”
“We don’t know that he’ll be able to utilize something like that, but we can look into it.”
“Well, figure it out,” she stated as plainly as possible, an edge in her voice.
She was baffled. If they had something that would allow him to communicate, then why wouldn’t they allow him to have it?
“If you’re not going to get it for him, I will,” Emery said before she knew what she was saying. “If I get it for him, will
you allow him to use it?”
“Are you sure you want that device in the house?” one of Lucas’s teachers asked.
“Well, I haven’t really thought it out. Is there a way you could keep it here at the school?”
“Sure, Emma. We could do that,” the administrator answered with a sad smile on her face.
Emery looked around the table again. All these people were here for Lucas except the one that should be, his mother. She was going to have a chat with Trina.
A week later, when she was leaving a meeting at Lucas’s school for a different kid, she saw him walking toward a bus.
“Lucas!” she called.
He turned with a genuine smile on his face and signed, asking her what she was doing there.
“Coming to see you, of course.”
He signed he was about to miss the bus.
“I’ll take you home. I was hoping to talk to your mom anyway,” she said and guided him to her car. “Also, I have a present for you.”
She laughed when he asked her what it was.
“It’s a surprise.”
She drove them to an ice cream shop on the way to his house. His eyes lit up as they got out of the car.
“What do you want?” she asked, checking her watch and not bothering to sign. She only had one other appointment today, so she was making time for Lucas.
He signed he wanted the kid’s sundae with a scoop of cookies and cream. Then he quickly added please.
While they waited for their ice cream, Emery pulled out an iPad Mini she’d bought that weekend. Based on her research, she’d uploaded the best software that would speak what was typed.
Lucas’s eyes grew to the size of saucers as she pulled out the device wrapped in an Avengers Otterbox cover.
“This is yours. I bought it for you.”
All of a sudden, Lucas wrapped his little arms around her. It was possibly the best feeling she’d ever had in her life.
She brought their ice cream over to the table he’d found for them. He was sitting quietly, looking through the iPad. “Let me show you what I got for you,” she said, sitting next to him and hitting the icon for the app.
“There’s more?” he signed.
She typed.
“Yes, there’s more,” a computerized voice rang out.
Lucas looked stunned.
“So now you can type in whatever you want to say and teachers will know what you need or that you know the answers to all the questions.” Emery slid the device toward him.
He looked at it and then up at Emery. She took a bite of her ice cream and smiled, not wanting to push him.
“Thank you,” the computerized voice said.
She clapped and smiled. “Awesome, dude!”
He signed, asking her if they could still use sign language.
“Of course,” she answered and ruffled his hair.
Thirty minutes later she was pulling onto Lucas’s street.
“You know, dude, I’m going to take the iPad back up to the school so that it will stay there, okay?”
He nodded and started fiddling with the hem of his Wolverine t-shirt.
“What’s wrong?”
He just shook his head. Emery parked and got out of the car. Lucas ran ahead of her and opened the door. A man burst through the door, almost knocking Lucas down in the process.
“Move your fucking car so I can get out!” he yelled as he passed her. The man reeked of alcohol. He was sporting a mullet, tight Wranglers, and an old Georgia Bulldog t-shirt on his too skinny frame.
“Oh, sorry.” Emery was taken aback at the language he used in front of Lucas.
She moved her car and the truck barreled off.
Lucas was still standing in the doorway when she walked up the front steps. One of the steps was missing, so it was a stretch to get to the porch.
“Where you been?” Emery heard a voice call from the house.
Lucas stepped back and Emery stuck her head in. “Hi, Trina, I brought him home from school today.”
“Aw, shit,” the woman responded. She was sprawled out on the couch, an empty bottle of cheap vodka next to her.
Emery stepped inside. “Have you been drinking?”
Lucas grabbed her hand and started shaking his head.
Trina lifted herself from the couch slowly. “What? Now I can’t even have a fucking drink in my own fucking house without you people coming in and trying to take my kid?” She motioned wildly at Emery.
“I don’t care what you do, ma’am, except when it impacts Lucas.”
“Oh, you don’t care, huh?”
Emery kept her voice calm. “I care about your son and that he’s getting everything he needs.”
“Lucas, why don’t you go in your room and let me talk to this lady.” Trina’s dirty blond hair was in desperate need of a dye job. Her eyes were crusted over with last night’s mascara.
Lucas squeezed Emery’s hand tighter and shook his head.
“Do what the fuck I tell you to do. Now.” Trina reached out and pushed him toward the back of the house.
“It’s okay, Lucas. I’ll see you later, okay?”
He nodded and ran down the hall.
“Ma’am, I’m not saying you can’t drink, but I’ll have to put in a report regarding your intoxication at 3:30 in the afternoon, when your son returned from school.”
“You just want to get my kid taken from me, don’t you? Isn’t that what all you bitches want?” Trina was now inches from Emery. “You think he’ll have it better in a foster home? You don’t know shit. He has a house and goes to school. What the fuck else does he need?”
“I just want what’s best for Lucas. I can understand it’s overwhelming for a parent of a kid with special needs.” Emery was using her training to keep calm when she really wanted to take Lucas and run.
Trina let out a disgusted laugh. “Overwhelming doesn’t even begin to describe it, honey.”
“Ma’am,” Emery tried again.
“Get the fuck out of my house unless you’ve set up an observation.”
Emery was torn. She didn’t want to leave Lucas here, with this…but there wasn’t anything she could do now, at least legally. She turned and walked slowly to her car.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Tattoo
On that Saturday night, Emery was driving like a bat out of hell to get to the hospital. It was 2:12 am when she received the call and she’d left her house immediately pulling on boots and a sweater she found on the floor of her closet over her pajamas. She was hoping to make it to Savannah General within twenty minutes. The cops had called her because she was Lucas’s DFCS case worker and he’d “been in an accident.”
“Hi. I’m here for Lucas Lord,” she spat out as she ran into the ER, breathing hard. “Lucas Lord.” Emery showed her DFCS ID. “I’m his caseworker.”
A male police officer approached her and nodded at her. “I’ll take you back,” the officer said, and his voice made the hairs of her arms stand on end. She dismissed it and followed him quickly through the lobby back through the doors and into the ER.
She didn’t like hospitals, but wanted to make sure Lucas was okay. Emery’s eyes went from room to room, searching for Lucas.
She saw the little boy lying on a bed to the right and ran past the officer to get to him. He looked younger than eleven and she wanted to hold him. Throwing down her bag and files on the floor, she hugged the frail little boy.
“Lucas, are you okay? You had me driving around like the Flash,” she said, exasperated. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw his jaw and ear.
His hands started moving around wildly, signing. He told her he was okay, but that Jerry had pushed him into a bookshelf and he’d fallen.
“That doesn’t look like a fall face,” she said. “That looks like a punch face.”
He hesitated and his eyes left hers, looking at something behind her. She turned and saw him looking at the cop.
“Look.” She pointed at her face.
“You’re okay. Tell me what happened.”
His eyes closed and signed that Jerry and his mother were drunk and Lucas kept telling them he needed to eat. It was ten at night and he hadn’t eaten since lunch at school the day before. So Jerry punched him in the face just a couple times. It broke her heart that Lucas phrased it as “just a couple times.”
Emery stepped to the side and looked away so that Lucas wouldn’t see the anguish on her face. She wouldn’t cry in front of this kid who was so strong. She examined the officer’s black uniform shoes. They were shiny, standard issue. Taking a breath, she leaned over Lucas. “I’m going to hug you now,” she declared.
Lucas smiled and nodded at her. She hugged him. He signed for her to sit next to him on the bed.
“You got it.” She leaned down and pulled off her UGG boots, leaving her Wonder Woman socks on, and crawled in the bed.
Lucas’s face threatened to break in two with the size of his grin when he saw her socks. He pointed at them enthusiastically. She smoothed his hair.
“Ma’am? Can you tell me what he just told you? We’ve been having a difficult time getting him to talk to us.”
Emery barely acknowledged the officer. “You would because he doesn’t talk.”
“He can hear, though, right?” The voice kept penetrating her brain, sending chills down her arms.
“He hears perfectly.” She inched down the bed so she and Lucas were on the same level and she could look him in his caramel eyes. “What do you say, bud? I need to tell this nice police officer why you were hurt. That okay?”
He fervently shook his head no. He started humming.
She put her arm on his. “Okay.”
A nurse came in a moment later and cheerfully announced that they needed to give him a shot. Lucas’s entire body started shaking.
“Hey, man, you can handle a little shot,” Emery comforted.
He started humming and hitting himself in the head.
“No, Lucas. No,” Emery said, putting her hands on his to stop him from hitting himself. “How about if I get a shot too? Will that work?”
Lucas stopped hitting his head and looked at her. Signing, he asked if she would really do that.
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