Even back in my school days, I’d managed to piss a lot of my classmates off. They all acted like if I didn’t think the exact same way as them, I was a horrible person. In classes, I was always asking questions and making comments that tempted the others to think differently from the same stale ideas they’d been taught. Not everybody liked it.
Sometimes I wondered if I’d gone into the wrong career. Having to constantly work with people who disagreed with me was so tiring.
“I don’t want to dwell on this,” Max said. “It’s going to put me in a bad mood, and that would defeat the whole purpose of coming out like this. I wanted to wind down from our day, not give myself even more stress.”
“I agree.” I took another fry.
“But before we change the subject…”
Oh, great.
“On Friday, when Jenelle comes in, I’d like you to talk to her.” He gave me a hard look. “Not talk at her. Not lecture her. Ask her about her life and how she got to this point, and really listen to her answers. I’d like you to stop judging for five minutes and ask yourself if you could really do any better if you were in her shoes.”
“I can do that.” Although I already knew that conversation wouldn’t change my mind in the least.
“You look a little too smug. How about we make this interesting?”
I quirked an eyebrow. “How so?”
“Let’s put some money on it. If talking to Jenelle changes your mind in any way, you pay for drinks for a week.”
“Sure.” I smirked. “And if it doesn’t make any difference to me, you pay for them for a month.”
“A month?”
“You know my social-worker salary doesn’t exactly have me rolling in dough. You’re the supervisor, you’re living in the lap of luxury compared to me.” I drained my glass. “Plus it’s less likely that you’ll win. I’m sure you’ll find some sneaky way to claim she changed my mind on some tiny aspect of what we talked about.”
“You know what? Fine.” He pushed his empty glass aside. “I’ll treat you for a month if she doesn’t make you see things differently in some significant way. Tiny changes won’t count.”
“Who decides if a change is tiny or significant?”
“We’ll decide that together. There’ll be an element of trust.” He stared at me hard. “The only thing I ask is that you go into the conversation with an open mind.”
“You already said that.”
“Because I’m not sure if you’ll do it. Or if you even can.”
“I can and I will.”
We finished eating quickly and paid the bill. There was no question of staying for another drink.
The new tension between us would dissipate soon enough.
And I couldn’t wait for my month of free drinks.
Four – Jenelle
My second visit with Mercy was scheduled from two until four in the afternoon, right in the middle of my grocery store shift. I scoffed as I read the email about it. Did these people want me to lose my job? To end up on the street, selling my body?
That one caseworker sure seemed like that was what she wanted. I was not looking forward to seeing her again today. Dealing with her haughty face and snobby attitude was not going to be fun.
But I’d do it for Mercy. I’d take the afternoon off work, too. I’d beg for another shift on Friday, which was supposed to be my day off this week. And if no one could give me theirs, well… I’d make things work. I always did.
I arrived at the agency at ten to two, which gave me time to tie back my hair and reapply my favorite red lipstick. My eyeshadow still looked good from the morning, and I was wearing a plain black T-shirt over cuffed American Eagle jeans.
I swung a duffel bag over my shoulder. My look was much more toned-down than it’d been the other day when I was on my way to the strip club. I was expected to look sexy while I worked there, even if I was only serving drinks.
Inside the building, Mercy’s foster parents were in the waiting room. I barely acknowledged them as I pushed open the double doors to the playroom.
There she was! My baby girl sat on the couch with her head down, and a rush of love flooded through me. I’d thought of nothing but her since I left this room three days ago. I’d spent hours sobbing over my pictures of her, running my fingers over the phone screen since I couldn’t touch her face. Now she was here in the flesh, and my heart couldn’t handle the sight of her.
“Baby!” I rushed over to her and swept her into my arms, lifting her off the floor as my eyes teared up again. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, Mommy.”
Reluctantly, I set her down. Had she gotten heavier in the last three days? She was getting so big already. Her childhood was flying by before my eyes. She’d only be this young once, and thanks to CPS, I was missing it.
Something hard slapped my thigh as Mercy returned her arms to her sides. A picture book – that was why she’d had her head down when I came in.
I grabbed it out of her hands, looking sharply at the caseworker behind her. “I thought I told you she didn’t need your toys.”
“It’s not a toy,” Sylvia said.
She was dressed similarly to the other day, black dress pants and a blazer. I wondered how much her low-heeled pumps cost – they looked like real leather. Her blonde hair was in a low bun, and she wore a pink lipstick that made her lips look full and plump.
She wasn’t a bad-looking woman. Her features were delicate and symmetrical, and she had a classic hourglass figure. She could’ve been hot, if not for the permanently bitchy expression on her face.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” I asked her. “Toy, book – same idea. I don’t want her using your shit. I brought her own things for her.” I dropped the duffel bag on the floor.
“What did you bring, Mommy?” Mercy opened the bag with evident glee, and I crossed my arms as I gave Sylvia a combative glance.
She probably noticed that Mercy didn’t react to my cussing. Oh, well. No use pretending I didn’t swear. It wasn’t a crime.
“Ms. Emory, we provide these things for your child’s benefit. I have to say, in the time I’ve been working here, I’ve never come across someone too prideful to use them.”
“Well, now you have.” I swiveled away from Sylvia and crouched on the floor with Mercy. I knew Sylvia would stay over in the corner, observing.
I squeezed Mercy’s puff of hair as she sifted through the duffel bag’s contents. Surprisingly, her curls were well-combed and moisturized. The foster parents seemed to be doing a decent job of managing it – although when she was with me, I braided or twisted it however she wanted.
“How are Linda and Stephen, honey?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Are they being nice to you?”
“They’re okay.” She discovered the new coloring book I’d hidden inside and pulled it out with a shriek. “It’s Frozen!”
“That’s right, just for you. Let’s sit at the table and color for a while, okay?”
She nodded seriously. “I’m going to color Elsa.”
“Then I’ll color Anna.”
We sat down, and I put a pack of crayons on the table as I thought about how to get her talking. Tearing out a page with a picture of the princess wrapping herself in a fur cloak, I asked, “What kind of things have you been doing with Linda and Stephen?”
“I dunno.” She was more focused on whether she should use purple or green for Elsa’s hair.
I sighed, conscious of Sylvia’s judging eyes on me. “Do they play with you? Do you go places?”
She nodded slightly, more focused on her coloring. “We went to the park.”
“And you had fun?”
“Yeah, the puppy was so excited.”
My heart caught in my throat. Those two had a puppy? I’d always wished I could give Mercy the kind of life that involved pets, but that wouldn’t be possible for a very long time. “That’s their puppy? What’s his name?”
“She’s a girl, silly.” Merc
y shook her head as if I was supposed to have known this. “Her name is Janet.”
“Janet the puppy. Okay.” My heart was still racing. I felt kind of like yelling at someone, I just wasn’t sure who.
“She does tricks, Mommy. She can sit and roll over.”
I licked my lips, my throat suddenly dry. I didn’t want to hear any more about Janet. “And how’s the new school going?” Surely that couldn’t be going too well – it’d be tough to start at a new school halfway through the year, and besides, she had to be missing her friends. Not that I wanted her to be unhappy, but…
“It’s good,” she said cheerily.
“Really? Even without Ava and Nina?”
“I still talk to them on Facetime.”
Of course she did. My stomach was sick. “So the kids at the new school are nice?”
“Really nice. They all made me a welcome card, and some girls wanted me to sit with them at lunch.”
I wondered what exactly the teacher had told them about her. Why exactly she felt the need to “welcome” her. If that teacher thought my baby was some poor, underprivileged kid who’d finally been given a better life, I’d punch her fucking lights out.
“I didn’t know how to do the math, so the teacher stayed after school to help me,” Mercy went on. “Now I get it.”
My fist balled underneath the table. The teacher at her usual school would never have done that. But that was her fault, not mine. No one could blame me for her old teacher not staying late unpaid to help her.
I peered over at her paper. “Elsa looks good. How about red for her dress?”
Mercy shook her head seriously. “Elsa’s dress has to be blue.”
Her hair was both purple and green. I didn’t think she was going for realism. But okay. “Whatever you want, honey. It’s going to look great either way.”
We colored for a while longer, and then she wanted to watch one of the Dora and Diego DVDs I’d brought. I hugged her tightly as we watched Dora go through her adventures. My heart swelled every time she repeated after the cartoon character.
Her foster parents were going to fall in love with her. How could they not? Usually I took pride in how curious and intelligent my daughter was. Right now, it scared me. What if Linda and Stephen decided they wanted to adopt her? What if they took her away from me forever?
All too soon, my two hours were up. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment,” Sylvia said the instant I let Mercy out of my arms. She’d been observing the whole time, scribbling away in her little notebook.
I was still on the verge of tears, and I squeezed them back as I watched the foster mother take Mercy’s hand and lead her out of the room. Clearing my throat, I said, “What?” Was she planning to judge me some more?
“It looks like you’re doing well with Mercy,” she said. “You were a lot less angry today.”
“Because you stayed the fuck out of my way.”
She blinked. “Right.”
“I come here to see my daughter, and anything else just gets in the way of that.” I crossed my arms.
“Like I told you last time, I’m here to work with you. I’d like to get you reunited with your daughter as soon as possible.”
Another bald-faced lie. “Sure. Can I go now?”
“Have you been going to your parenting classes?”
A muscle in my jaw twitched. “Is asking that part of your job, or are you being nosy?”
“It’s part of my job. You’ll have your first review hearing in six months, and the judge won’t consider giving Mercy back unless you’ve completed ten classes like he ordered you to. If you don’t get her back then, it’ll be another six months until your next hearing. So, have you started going?”
“Not yet. I’m working on finding a time that works with my schedule.” I glowered at her, silently daring her to have a problem with that.
“You need to start soon. The classes are only offered once a month at the closest location.” She must’ve seen the dismay on my face, because she quickly continued. “There are a few locations, though. I can help you find a time that works for you, if you want.”
“No.” I could do that myself. It might be harder than I’d thought, but I’d do it.
“Okay. That’s all I wanted to ask. But…”
I crossed my arms. “What now?”
“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind telling me how Mercy ended up being taken. Your side of the story.” She gave me a small, weak smile. “This part is me just being nosy.”
Both my eyebrows went up. She was trying to make conversation with me? Like… to get on my good side, befriend me? By jumping straight to the most painful experience I’d ever been through? No, thanks.
“That’s private.” I swung my bag over my shoulder and headed toward the door.
“Wait. Jenelle…”
That had to be the first time she’d called me by my first name, and the surprise of it made me turn and look back at her. Her blue eyes pleaded with me, as if there was something more to this, some deeper reason she was asking.
“Why do you want to know?” I asked suspiciously.
“I’d like to understand you better.” She appeared to be sincere. “It would help me help you if I knew where you were coming from.”
“So this is all off-the-record?” I asked. “It’s not going down in that little notebook of yours?”
She closed the book and tossed it onto the couch, then sat down next to it. “Not if you don’t want it to.”
I glanced at the time on my phone. Four notifications from work – dammit. I’d check them later. I swiped them away. “I got a few minutes.”
“Sit down with me.”
“I’d rather stand.” I crossed my arms. “Mercy got taken because I left her alone once. Once. My sister was supposed to watch her and she canceled at the absolute last minute. I called all the babysitters I knew and none of them were available. It was already seven o’clock and I thought she could put herself to bed. But my nosy-ass neighbor figured out she was alone and called CPS.”
Sylvia’s teeth dug into her lower lip. “And you couldn’t call off from work?”
“Of course not. How could I pay my rent? Maybe if it’d been a shift at the grocery store, but with the tips, the strip club pays way better.”
“You need to get a better job.”
“Like it’s that fucking easy!” I glared at her.
“What’s holding you back?”
Pursing my lips, I spun around. I was done with this conversation.
“Jenelle, I’m trying to help you here.”
I spun back, madder than ever. “You think you’re going to come up with some solution I haven’t? I live this life. You’re just dipping your toes in it.”
“I’m trying to understand.”
I rubbed a palm across my forehead. Maybe she did know some services or something that could help me. Hell, maybe she could hook me up with a business loan to finance my wildest dreams. I’d never know unless I gave her a little more of my time. I always did have an issue with yelling at people rather than listening to them.
“I work seventy hours a week.” I explained slowly, like I was talking to a child. “Five days a week at the grocery store, five nights a week at the strip club. Seven hours per shift, and that’s not counting an unpaid half-hour lunch at the store. Add in commuting, and it’s really fifteen or sixteen hours on the days when I’m working at both. And it’s always one or the other. I never have a full day off. When I’m outside of work, I need to sleep. I need to eat, shower, take care of my kid. And now I need to go on these visits with her and find the time for parenting classes. When do you think I’d have time to go job-hunting?”
She started to say something, then stopped herself. She must’ve realized it was more of a rhetorical question.
“I make a little over three grand a month,” I said. “Taxes take another chunk of that. Rent is a grand. I have food, Internet, utilities. I can’t afford to be taking shifts of
f whenever I feel like it. The money doesn’t add up.”
She frowned. “And what about your family?”
“My sister used to help. I don’t trust her anymore. I’m not even speaking to her.” Chandra could burn in hell for the way she’d fucked me over. “Or do you mean my parents? You think I should lean on them a little more?”
“Well… yeah.”
My face twisted into a scornful smile. “I would, except they disowned me for being gay.”
I watched with satisfaction as shock took over her face, rapidly followed by confusion. Her eyes darted to the door Mercy had left through a few minutes ago.
“What, you don’t know how I can have a kid if I’m gay?” I asked stonily. “I didn’t know at the time. I was a dumb teen making dumb decisions. Trying to be normal, because I knew I wasn’t. I know you probably think I should’ve aborted Mercy, but I couldn’t do it. As soon as the pregnancy test read positive, I was in love.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
Yeah, right. “Anyway, I came out a couple years after Mercy was born, and boom. No more parents.”
Sylvia’s lips flattened, and she peered at me as if trying to reconcile this new information with what she already knew about me. “So… they won’t help with Mercy at all.”
Was this woman deaf? “That’s what I just told you.”
“And… and…” She shook her head. I’d really thrown her for a loop. “What about the baby’s father?”
“What about him? He was never a part of Mercy’s life. Took off long before she was born. I never heard from him again.”
“He’s never sent her any money?”
“Are you trying to make a fucking joke?”
“Jenelle.” Sylvia leaned forward, her elbow on her knee, her chin in her hand. “He should be paying you child support.”
I laughed out loud. “Sure, if I lived in Fantasyland.”
“I’m serious. It’s actually mandatory in the state of Florida. How has he gotten away with not paying it?”
“He’s not on the birth certificate.”
“Jenelle!” Her jaw dropped. “How could you not put him on the birth certificate?”
Half A Heart Page 3