Some Other Child

by Buchbinder, Sharon

  “This weekend?” Sarah felt panic rising. She wanted to see Dan, but not looking like this. She needed an excuse.

  “Yes, vot other time of the week would this Sunday be?”

  “Well, you see, um, I ah, I’m, um.” She couldn’t think fast enough.

  “Vot? Vot is it already?”

  “I was hit by a van this morning. I look like I had a fight with a truck and lost.”

  “Nu, now that’s an excuse I’ve never heard before.”

  Sarah heard the older woman take a drag on her cigarette. “Tell you vot. You come anyway. He’s seen worse.”

  “Well, thanks very much, but---”

  “Okay, so we’ll see you on Sunday at nine in the morning at the deli. We gotta beat the crowd coming out of religious school or we’ll never get a table.”

  “Okay, see you then. Thanks for calling.”

  Mrs. Rosen coughed and hung up.

  Panic bubbled up in Sarah’s chest. She wanted to see Dan, but not looking like a battered woman. “Now what am I going to do?”

  The clock edged towards eleven. She had to call the office and let them know what was going on. She didn’t want to bother Marian, so she called her Grants Administrator, Arlene Brown.

  Arlene was a strikingly beautiful, God-fearing, intensely private African American woman. She was so modest, she always wore long sleeve blouses and dresses, even in the summer. She had grown up in the tough neighborhood surrounding the Hopkins Medical complex. At twenty-two, she was one of the smartest people Sarah had ever worked with.

  One time, Arlene had reviewed the monthly printouts for the child abuse and neglect prevention grant Sarah worked on and found an unexplained equipment expense of $3,500.

  “Sarah, what was this big purchase for?” Arlene asked.

  Flabbergasted, Sarah pulled the print out over and stared at it. “I have no clue. I haven’t bought anything that expensive since the project started. Are there any Purchase Orders to go with this?”

  “I can’t find any,” Arlene said.

  An unsettling thought occurred to her. “Does anyone else have access to this account?”

  “Yes, there are a few people. Let’s keep quiet and see what happens.”

  Two weeks later, Sarah saw Arlene examining a stack of new computer boxes in the hallway.

  “What’s up?” Sarah asked.

  “Seems these items just appeared. No one’s claiming them. They’ve been stripped of their paperwork.”

  Just then, Diane, an extremely overweight, Administrative Assistant appeared. She wore a denim Western skirt and blouse, silver and turquoise jewelry, fancy black and red cowboy boots, and way too much blush on her pale white cheeks. Sarah wondered if Diane was going to a country and western singers’ audition. With a major claim to fame as the control freak in charge of supplies, Diane put faculty and staff through an inquisition before unlocking the supply closet of pens, pencils, and pads of paper. She waved a piece of paper.

  “Here’s the Purchase Order.”

  “Let me see that,” Arlene said.

  Diane handed Arlene the sheet of paper. “Remember when we hired that new faculty person and then she decided not to come?” Diane speech was pressured, almost breathless. “Well, I had already ordered her a PC and printer. You can tell it’s a faculty computer because it has an Ethernet card to access the Internet. You know, we administrative staff aren’t allowed to have that. It must have been put on the wrong account number, don’t ya think?”

  Arlene looked up from the sheet of paper. “This is a photocopy. Where’s the original PO?”

  Diane flushed. “Oh, sure, no problem.”

  Diane returned with the original PO and handed it to Arlene.

  Holding it up to the light, Arlene inspected it then turned to Diane. “This PO has been altered. Do you want to tell me the truth now, or shall I call the Baltimore City Police about your attempted theft?”

  Diane burst into tears.

  “You owe me, dammit! I’m getting married and moving to Arizona and all you people gave me was a crummy platter, a book, and a card. Ten years, and you didn’t even give me a decent going-away party. Deli platters? I deserve a dinner and drinks and a band. I deserve this computer and printer and anything else I can lay my hands on.”

  “Diane,” Arlene said.

  “What?”

  “Do not touch anything. If you attempt to touch a computer, I will have you arrested. Sarah, would you please stay with Diane while I call Security?”

  “Okay.”

  Diane stamped her red and black cowboy boots. “You can’t do this to me. I’ve been here longer than either of you. How dare you treat me this way!”

  She was still stamping when Security arrived to escort her out of the building.

  Arlene could smell trickery, fraud, or deceit at a mile away. She was a watchdog without being a control freak, an unusual combination of traits.

  When Sarah called to tell Arlene what had happened, the voicemail picked up with instructions to “Press zero if this is urgent.”

  “General Pediatrics, this is Jazmin Bedford. How may I help you?”

  “Jazmin, this is Sarah. I just wanted to let you guys know I was hit by a van when I went out for a walk. I think I’m okay, but I need to stop by the Adult ER and be seen.”

  “It’s been one terrible day. First Arlene. Now you.”

  Sarah clutched the phone tighter. “What do you mean? Is Arlene hurt?”

  “No, Arlene’s okay, but her Mama, had a stroke. Arlene’s pretty torn up about it, too.”

  “I’m so sorry. Where’s her mother now? Any word about her condition?”

  “She’s in Randallstown Community. That’s the closest hospital to them,” Jazmin said.

  “Arlene must be going crazy. If you speak with her, please tell her she’s in my prayers, and give her my cell phone number if she wants to call me.”

  “You want me to tell Dr. Kirby what’s going on with you?”

  “Yes. I’ll probably be in the ER for the rest of the afternoon. I just didn’t want people to think I abandoned ship.”

  “I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry.”

  The outpatient parking lot was full, as were the surrounding flat lots and more distant garages. Sarah drove back to the outpatient center, pulled up to the valet stand, and asked them to park her old beater of a car. She limped away, leaving the valets flipping a coin to see who would be forced to drive it. The good news was no one would ever be tempted to steal it, regardless of where they parked it.

  The Adult ER was rocking and rolling, another day in Charm City, home of drug dealers, gangs and random acts of violence. Sarah checked in at the front desk, grateful she’d brought her guilty pleasure with her: the latest novel from her favorite romance author. No sooner did she sit down, than her name was called.

  “Sarah Wright?” asked a pretty young African American woman in blue scrubs. “Come with me, please.”

  Wincing at the assorted muscle aches and pains she was just discovering, Sarah pushed herself up out of the hard plastic seat and followed the young woman down a hallway, past a lineup of wheelchairs and gurneys.

  “Did I forget to complete a form?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with your paperwork.” She flashed a blinding smile at her. “Come with me, and we’ll get you seen as soon as possible.”

  Who had intervened on her behalf? It had to be someone with clout. Had Marian Kirby called down to tell them to see her immediately? Sarah knew waits in the ER for non-life threatening emergencies were legendary. People sometimes sat for as long as twelve hours before a doctor saw them.

  The nurse led Sarah into a four-bed room occupied by three other people. She pulled a long gray curtain around the one empty bed, and invited Sarah to sit on a chair.

  She held a pen poised over a clipboard. “Tell me why you’re here.”

  Sarah described her not-so-healthy walk and pointed to the various places on her face, chest, and back where
she had cuts, scratches, and bruises. She also told her about refusing to be taken anywhere by the two creepy EMTs. She finished with, “I wanted to come here, where I know and trust people.”

  “I know what you mean,” the young woman said.

  “I’m going to have a humongous bruise on my back, because that’s where the van hit me. But that’s not what’s hurting me the most. My neck is killing me.”

  Gently palpating, the nurse asked where it hurt the most. Sarah shrieked in pain when she touched the sides.

  “Okay. I’m going to get the ER Resident in here as soon as I can. You just sit and relax for a little bit.” She looked down at the book in Sarah’s hand. “What are you reading?”

  “Nora Roberts.” She held the cover up to show her.

  “Is it the latest one?”

  “Yes. I had it on pre-order for a month.”

  “Me, too. I’ll see if I can track down the Resident. While I go look for her, why don’t you put on this very fashionable gown?”

  She handed Sarah the traditional blue and white Johnny coat that leaves the butt exposed and left in a swirl of gray cloth and jangling shower curtain rings.

  Sarah decided she’d rather clutch the two seams together in front than have them flapping uncontrollably in back. She had just gotten to the second chapter in the book, when the curtain opened and an attractive, twenty-something, white woman with shoulder-length chestnut brown hair came in. She entered the curtained area with her head down, reading the clipboard.

  “How are you doing?” The physician looked up and stopped in her tracks. “What’s the other guy look like?”

  “A large white van, with one very clean headlight.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Sarah repeated the story while the doctor palpated and prodded. Then she had Sarah turn around and raise the back of the gown so she could see her injuries. More probing followed.

  “You have so many hematomas, not to mention the shiner you have on your right eye, I’m a little concerned you might become anemic. I want to do a Hemoglobin and Hematocrit, an H and H, to make sure you’re not bleeding too much.”

  “Please tell me you’re not talking about a blood transfusion.”

  “It’s more likely you’ll need to take iron supplements for a while until your numbers come up. What about your neck?”

  She listened and then induced the same shriek the nurse caused.

  “You just won a trip to Imaging.”

  “You mean I get to spend time in out of the way rooms with strange men? Then this is my lucky day. I haven’t been in a dark room with a man in a really, really long time.”

  The doctor laughed. “Don’t get too excited. It’s mostly female radiologists and Rad techs these days. Let me see how quickly we can get you in and out. In the meantime, we’ll get you fitted with a cervical collar and get your blood work done.” She parted the curtain from the wall, leaving Sarah alone with the big Nora.

  The same nurse returned with an assortment of soft cervical collars. “Which one of these accessories would you like?”

  Few sights were more unattractive than cervical collars. Now, not only would she be bruised when she saw Dan, but also wearing this ugly foam neck brace. “Wouldn’t you think someone would have designed a pretty one by now?”

  The nurse agreed.

  “If I wear the white one, I’ll look like a roll of toilet paper. If I wear the Caucasian flesh tone one, I’ll look like I have a really fat neck. I think I’ll take the black one and make a fashion statement.”

  Five minutes later, her blood work was drawn, followed by a trip to radiology and back. They were working on some kind of land-speed record that day. In less than forty-five minutes, the MRIs were completed and Sarah was back in the cubicle with her book.

  “I have good news,” the ER doctor said a few minutes later. “Are you ready?”

  “Hit me. No, on second thought, don’t,” Sarah said.

  “You have no broken bones. All soft tissue injuries.”

  “Now what?”

  “Do you need anything for pain?” The doctor pulled out a prescription pad.

  “Can’t I take aspirin?”

  “No, not with those bruises. How about some Tylenol with Codeine?”

  “Will it knock me out?”

  “You’re not supposed to operate heavy machinery or drive when you take it. You probably want to keep it for bedtime. Get dressed and meet me out at the front desk,” the nurse said. “We’ll get your paperwork and prescriptions all squared away out there.”

  Slow arm movements helped Sarah to avoid sudden jabs of pain. She hobbled out to the front desk, keeping her head straight and heard a familiar voice.

  “Well, look at you. You’re all decked out for a night on the town, girlfriend.”

  A tall young African American woman, with braids, lots of gold jewelry, high cheekbones, and expressive brown eyes, Jazmin was all smiles. Today she was wearing a purple dress with a long red scarf and red high-heeled shoes with pointed toes and sexy ankle straps. Sarah’s feet hurt looking at them.

  “Were you the person who got me seen before the next millennium?”

  “I told you I’d take care of it.” She grinned at Sarah’s surprise and pointed to the nurse who had taken care of Sarah. “I called my twin sister, Ayana.”

  Sarah teetered and Ayana ran over to Sarah’s side. “Steady there, Dr. Wright.”

  “Twins?”

  “Fraternal.” Jazmin smiled. “She’s three minutes older than me. Got all the brains, too.”

  “You’re twin angels. I owe you.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m just returning a few favors.”

  Tears welled up and dribbled down Sarah’s cheeks. Damn, she was tired of being so emotional. “Thank you, Jazmin. You’re too kind. I’ve been having a hell of a week. This is one of the nicest things anyone has done for me since my Aunt drove away and disappeared.” She stopped, stunned at her own choice of words.

  “Hey now, Dr. Wright.” Jazmin came over and took her arm. “Let me take you up to your office. Want some coffee?”

  Afraid she’d be bawling like a baby in the middle of the ER if she opened her mouth, Sarah could only nod and allowed Jazmin to take the lead.

  Jazmin held Sarah’s arm and walked with her as if she was Queen Elizabeth. She guided Sarah to her desk chair. “I’ll be right back. Sit and relax.” She refused money for the coffee and left.

  The computer moaned and groaned as it booted up. Sarah kept thinking about how she’d vocalized her worst fear. Aunt Ida had driven away and disappeared. She was not to be found anywhere along her route.

  Should she go to the police? Or would they laugh at her and tell her “She’s old enough to take care of herself,” like Gertrude? She sat there and deliberated her options. A soft, scratching noise came from the door. Jazmin. Probably struggling with coffee and keys. Sarah shuffled a few steps, and a piece of white paper slid underneath the door. This one said, “Suffer the little children.”

  She knew enough not to touch it. By the time she got to the door and opened it the hallway was empty.

  “Is someone there? Do you want to talk to me? I’m here. Hello?”

  No reply. Only the scent of a familiar perfume she couldn’t place hovered in the air. Soon, even that was gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ida heard footsteps overhead and looked up. She had no idea of how long she’d been held captive. Her watch didn’t have dates and her sense of time was distorted, thanks to the constant light of the overhead bulb. Sandwiches appeared and the water pitcher refilled. She slipped in and out of fitful sleep. Were they drugging her?

  “Hello?” she called. “Anyone?”

  A door creaked open and a wedge of light appeared. Heavy footsteps stomped down the stairs, followed by a lighter set. The two approached her, one carrying rope. They wore the same outfits as before, but this time, instead of ski masks, they wore stockings over their heads, distorting their feature
s. She could see dark hair on the taller one, and light hair on the shorter one, but that was all she could distinguish.

  “Ready to go for a ride?” the taller man asked.

  “Where are you taking me?” Ida asked.

  “We thought you might want to go home,” the shorter one said in a husky voice.

  “Home? Yes, I’d like to go home.”

  “Then, be a good girl. Don’t scream, and we’ll take you home,” the taller man said.

  Ida sat without resisting as the larger man tied her hands. The smaller man undid the shackles and led her up the stairs. She passed through a kitchen with dishes stacked in the sink. Large brown roaches crawled around the counters. She shuddered and wondered if she’d eaten any bugs in the sandwiches.

  The van sat in a connecting garage. The taller man motioned to Ida to get in and sit in a lawn chair. The two thugs said nothing on the twenty-minute trip. When the door slid open, Ida wept with relief to see that she was indeed home, and inside her own garage. She staggered out of the van, helped down by the larger man. The smaller man dragged the lawn chair out of the van and dropped it in front of the workbench.

  “Thank you,” Ida said.

  An automatic courtesy, but the big man snickered. “Oh, yeah, you’re going to thank us a lot.”

  He pulled on her wrist, dragging her to the workbench.

  “Put your hands up here.”

  Ida stared at him.

  “I don’t understand. What are you doing?”

  “Hold on,” the shorter man said. “I’ll get something to help.” He returned a few moments later with a small bottle. “Have a sip. You’ll feel better.”

  “That’s straight GHB!” Ida said. “If I drink that, it will knock me out. It might kill me.”

  The larger man turned around, holding a power saw.

  “Maybe you won’t want to feel this,” he said and clicked the on switch.

  * * * *

  “Okay, let’s see if I’ve got this right.” Detective O’Grady reviewed her notes. “You’re sitting in your desk chair. You hear a noise, like a scratching sound. You’re injured, so you can’t move fast. You go to the door and this piece of paper comes underneath. Is that correct?”