by E. N. Joy
“We have a new dessert menu. So you and little man need to save room for that.” Zelda winked. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She walked away to take care of her other customers.
Deborah blessed her and her son’s food and they began to eat. Halfway through her meal, Deborah was interrupted.
“The way you smashing that food, I think I’m going to order that,” Deborah heard a voice say. She looked up to see Helen standing over her.
“Oh, hey, Sister Helen,” Deborah greeted her, wiping her mouth. “How are you?”
“I’m good, but it’s my little guy here I’m worried about.” Helen pinched Deborah’s son’s cheek. “That bruise he had. It just stayed in my spirit. Is it doing any better?”
“Yes, he’s fine,” Deborah said while smiling at her son. “Mommy’s baby is just fine.”
“Good,” Helen replied. “Did you ever figure out how he got it—what the bruise was from?”
“No.” Deborah shrugged her shoulders. “Things just happen with kids. You know how that goes.” Deborah actually did know how the bruise had gotten there, but she didn’t want her food to get cold while she explained all the boring details to Helen. Besides, she didn’t have to answer to anybody. Not her mother and certainly not Helen.
“I know. They take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’,” Helen joked. “But that was just odd. It concerned me. He’s always so happy. So it bothered me that it was bothering him so much. It was like he took a lickin’ but his tickin’ wasn’t the same anymore.”
Deborah was glad that someone cared about her son just as much as she did. What she didn’t appreciate was Helen making it appear as though she cared more than Deborah did.
“Well, he’s back to tickin’ just fine,” Deborah assured Helen.
“You sure? Let me see.” Helen leaned in to check the spot where she’d seen the bruise on Deborah’s son’s arm.
“I said he’s fine.” The snappiness shot out of Deborah’s voice and stopped Helen’s actions instantly.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m sorry,” Helen apologized. “You two are trying to eat and I’m just interrupting y’all.” She laughed. “Forgive me for overreacting sometimes. I’m going to be a mess when I open my own daycare. I’m probably going to be getting on those parents’ nerves.” She laughed again. “But I don’t play that mess when it comes to kids. I’m like Oprah Winfrey when it comes to the kids—very protective and concerned. I can’t just let things go.”
“Well, the parents should be so lucky to have someone caring for their children who are truly concerned about them,” Deborah stated, hoping Helen would keep it moving so that she and her son could enjoy their meal. Let that caseworker tell it, this could be their last meal together.
“Mrs. Lewis,” the caseworker had said, “I should inform you of some of the possible outcomes if the allegations of child abuse against your child are found to be true.”
“But they won’t be found to be true. I do not abuse my child,” Deborah had countered.
“So you say, but I should still let you know that not only could your son be removed from your home—temporarily, permanently, or indefinitely—but you could also face criminal charges and serve jail time. And, might I add, having a criminal record, especially against a child, is very, very, very damaging. It will limit you in future career choices, and—”
“Look, I don’t mean to interrupt you, but like I said, I do not beat on my son.”
The woman stopped and stared at Deborah for a moment before stating, “Mrs. Lewis, do you understand that child abuse involves more than just hitting a child? There are soooo many ways parents hurt and damage their children that do not involve them ever laying a hand on them.” To drive her point in the woman added, “You saw that episode of Dr. Phil where that woman would punish her son by making him take a cold shower, all the while she’s fussing him out?”
“I heard about that.” Deborah brushed it off as if sweeping dirt under the rug.
“Then you also heard that she was arrested and charged with abuse.” The caseworker swept it right back out.
Those words had really made Deborah think just how serious this situation was. She could go to jail. She could actually go to jail because someone else thought the way she was treating her child was wrong. It was behind that thought that the arguments Deborah had been having with her mother lately had popped into her head. Her mother had made it no secret that she felt Deborah’s behavior was damaging to her son. But now, as she sat in the Family Café, she realized that her mother obviously wasn’t the only one who thought that. If Deborah didn’t know any better, she’d have thought Helen was undercover, trying to hint around that perhaps Deborah could have put the bruise on her son.
A red light went off when Deborah thought back to the caseworker asking Deborah if she could have permission to look over her son. The first place that caseworker went to was her son’s arms. That bruise, which Deborah did end up having checked out, had actually been some type of rash and wasn’t a bruise at all. With a prescription cream the doctor had prescribed, it went away. So by the time the social worker went to check out her son, it was gone.
What wasn’t gone, though, was a fresh thought Deborah was having. It was a thought that now nagged her to the pit of her stomach. She thought back to her mother’s reaction, her facial expressions, when Deborah had accused her of calling Children Services on her. Deborah figured she was playing off her ignorance well. But maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she truly wasn’t the one who had called the people on her. The more Deborah thought about Helen’s actions as of late, the more she became certain that her mother wasn’t the culprit. No, it hadn’t been her mother at all.
“You! It was you!” Deborah stood up so abruptly that she almost turned her plate over. “You called Children Services on me. That bruise . . . You thought I put that bruise on my son’s arm, so you reported me. You vengeful, nosey . . .” And before Deborah knew it, an expletive was flying out of her mouth.
“Excuse me!” Helen was in complete shock. Why, all of a sudden, was Deborah all in her face calling her out of her name? She looked around as if the other patrons knew what was going on and someone could clue her in.
“Don’t you stand here and try to act stupid.” Deborah was all up in Helen’s face. She couldn’t get any closer. “You making such a big deal out of a little ol’ bruise is a dead giveaway. And, just so you know, it wasn’t a bruise. It was a rash. So now you can call Children Services back and tell them how ridiculous your claim was.” The heat was rising in Deborah. And even though she knew the scripture very well—James 1:20 in the King James Amplified says, “For man’s anger does not promote the righteousness God wishes and requires”—she didn’t care. The heck with being righteous. The only wish she wanted to fulfill right now was her desire to kick Helen’s butt.
“Look, you are tripping,” Helen said. “I have no idea what the heck you are talking about here. If you want to calm down and talk about this, then I’m here for you. If I can help you through this situation in any way, I will. But you flying off the handle like some psycho woman all the time is about to drive me crazy.” She looked down at Deborah’s son. “And if this is how you act on the regular—all bipolar and stuff—then you are probably going to drive your poor son crazy too.”
Instinctively, Deborah found her hand planted on Helen’s cheek. “Don’t you say anything about my son. Don’t you worry about my son.” Deborah’s emotions were at their capacity. It was uncontrollable as she went to hit Helen again.
This time Helen caught Deborah’s hand. The two began to tussle back and forth. Deborah lost her balance and slipped backward. The two landed on the table. The food went everywhere as Deborah’s son began to cry out.
Zelda came running over and scooped Deborah’s son up. “You two stop it! Cut it out.” Her pleas fell on deaf ears as Helen continued to tussle with Deborah by holding her wrists.
Deborah managed to loosen one of her wrists from Helen’s gri
p and deck her upside the head. Once again, instead of hitting her back, Helen managed to grip Deborah’s wrists and the two tussled more. They fell off the table, onto the booth bench. After tussling some more, they ended up on the floor.
Other patrons stood nearby, trying to figure out what was going on. Zelda encouraged them to assist in breaking up the fight. “Somebody, please do something.” Zelda would have done something herself, but her first concern was that of Deborah’s son. She wanted to get him away from the drama. She didn’t want him to witness his mother engaged in such behavior. As she backed away from the physical altercation, she continued her plea. “Somebody please break them up!”
By now, Deborah had gotten away from Helen and was windmilling her. She was just swinging her arms like a madwoman, not caring whether or where her hands landed.
Finally, a woman encouraged her husband to go break the two women up.
“You are going to pay for this, Helen,” Deborah warned once the two were separated. “You done fooled with the wrong one. I knew I should have never let you in my space. You took my kindness as weakness and figured you could pull the same kind of crap on me again. But you got it all twisted.”
“You need help,” Helen said to Deborah. “I’ve been there, so I know. You need help, sister.”
Deborah went to lunge at Helen again, but she couldn’t get past the woman’s husband who had pulled her off of Helen in the first place. So, instead, she just continued to hurl insults at her until finally the local police showed up. Seeing the men in blue seemed to be the only thing that settled Deborah down.
“I take it you two are the ones involved in the altercation we received a call about?” the officer surmised after seeing Deborah and Helen covered in food with their hair and clothes all out of place.
Neither Helen nor Deborah answered verbally.
The officer shook his head. “I have to deal with grown women acting like they’re on a reality show when there are more serious situations I could be taking care of out there,” the officer said. “So let’s not waste too much time. I’m going to need each one of you to come out to the back of my patrol car while I question you. Then I’ll question a couple of witnesses. But please know that before the day is over, someone’s going to jail.”
Chapter Thirty-six
“Jail?” Deborah spat. “I can’t go to jail. My . . . my son is here.”
As if on cue, Zelda cleared the corner with Deborah’s son in her arms. He was holding a roll. Zelda had given it to him to quiet him down from all the commotion he’d witnessed, which had visibly shaken him up.
“What will happen to my baby?” Deborah began to panic as her eyes darted back and forth from her son to the officer.
“Most likely, he’ll end up at Children Services,” the officer replied as if he loved being the bearer of bad news. There was just something about this officer that told Deborah that he loved doing his job, that he loved when folks gave him the opportunity to haul them downtown. He wasn’t bluffing. Someone was going to jail. That officer was going to make the person who pulled him away from his donut and coffee pay. It would more than likely be the instigator. It would most likely be Deborah.
“Chi . . . Children Services.” Deborah swallowed hard and almost stopped breathing.
Children Services had already been at her doorstep today. If her son showed up on theirs, something told her it would be a long time before she got him back. Terror filled her as her nerves began to get the best of her. Her hands started shaking. She looked over at Helen, who had obviously gotten the short end of the stick in the fight. She had scratches, marks, and even a spot of blood in the corner of her mouth. But in that instant Deborah’s mind began to conjure up the lie she would tell the officer: how Helen had approached her and thrown the first blow. Deborah had only been defending herself. If the officer still had doubts, Deborah would throw Helen under the bus even further. She would go on to tell the officer that Helen had a violent past and that due to her past, she’d lost custody of her son. He could check the facts on that and find that Helen’s mother had custody of her son once upon a time. Yes; Deborah had it all planned out. That’s exactly what she’d do. She’d lie now and repent later, but her son was not going to end up in the system.
“Yep, Children Services,” the officer confirmed. “Besides, any grown woman who fights in front of her child should be thrown into jail anyway. As a matter of fact, that is the law in some states.” He looked at Deborah. “You look like you watch reality TV. That’s what happened to the one gal on that reality teen pregnancy show. She was fighting in front of her kid and got arrested—got the kid taken away from her and everything.” The officer let out a harrumph. “I don’t know why these folks keep going on all these stupid reality shows.”
Ironically enough, Deborah did recall hearing about the girl from the reality show to which the officer was referring. It sickened her that she even put herself in this type of predicament.
“So who’s first?” The officer sighed.
Figuring she might as well go first in order to get it over with and see where the chips may fall, Deborah decided to volunteer to go first. “I’ll go.”
The officer started to escort Deborah out of the restaurant.
“Mommy.” Deborah’s son reached out to her. He’d finished the roll. He wanted his mommy.
“I’ll keep him for you, Deborah,” Zelda told Deborah as she slowly walked toward the exit.
“Mommy!” her son cried out again.
Deborah turned to face him. “Mommy will be right back, son.” Her voice quivered. She didn’t sound so confident. The negative, uncertain energy she was producing was being transferred to her son.
“Mommy! Mommy!” He began to cry out louder.
Oh, God, what have I gotten myself into? were Deborah’s thoughts, and they were written all over her face. Deborah tried to drown out her son’s crying and calls for her as she started her journey toward the exit. It felt like the longest walk of her life. So many actions and so many consequences ran through her head with each step. Why had she made the decisions she’d made? Why had she made them without even caring about the cost? What was wrong with her that she was so out of control that she stopped considering the consequences of her actions? Now not only was there a chance she would have to pay for her actions with jail time, but her son would have to pay as well.
“Wait, Officer!” Helen yelled out with slight hesitation. “There’s no need for you to even waste your time with all this. Everybody in here knows whose fault this is—who started it all.” Helen looked around at the eyewitnesses with a pleading look in her eyes. “It was me. I started it. I hit her first. She was only trying to defend herself by blocking and holding me.” Helen looked at Deborah dead in her eyes. She then looked at Deborah’s weeping son. She swallowed and continued. “Isn’t that right, Sister Deborah?”
“Sister? You mean to tell me you two are kin up in here fighting and acting a fool?” the officer asked.
“No, not that kind of sisters,” Helen replied. “Sisters in Christ. We go to the same church.”
“You mean to tell me you two are church folks up in here fighting and acting a fool?” He laughed. “That’s even worse. But who am I to judge?” He shook his head in disgust. “Anyway, Sister Deborah,” he said sarcastically, “is what she says true?”
Deborah just stood there in utter shock. She didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Just moments ago she’d had her own string of lies she’d planned on telling in order to save her own tail, but no, all of a sudden, she couldn’t even agree with the one Helen was telling.
“It’s the truth, Officer,” Helen stepped in. “Her boy isn’t going to Children Services because it’s not her fault.” Helen looked around at the patrons. “Isn’t that right?”
At first there was a pause filled with silence.
“Isn’t that right?” Helen pressed. “The last place that boy needs to be is down at Children Services.” Helen looked over
at Deborah’s distraught son. Other patrons followed her eyes over to the boy. Just the mere sight broke their hearts, causing a couple of them to nod in agreement with Helen’s lie.
Finally there were a few. “Yeah, Officer. That’s right.”
“So just leave the boy be,” another added, confirming that the only reason they were going along with the lie was for the sake of the child.
All Deborah knew was that she was so glad this wasn’t a Primetime: What Would You Do? episode and that a camera crew wouldn’t come out and bust all the folks who had just told the legal authorities an outright lie. They’d feel so embarrassed that they’d all fess up and tell the truth: Deborah was the instigator. Deborah threw the first blow. As a matter of fact, she’d been the only one throwing punches. Helen hadn’t even tried to hit her. The only reason she’d had her hands on Deborah at all was to try to keep Deborah from waling on her. Yet here stood Deborah, portraying the victim.
“So like I said, Officer, there’s no need for you to waste any more of your time,” Helen told him, then extended her wrists in order to sport the metal bracelets.
The officer looked at Helen with uncertainty. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked almost as if he knew deep down in his spirit there wasn’t an ounce of truth to the scenario they were trying to get him to believe. But unless someone said otherwise, he couldn’t operate on gut feelings alone.
Helen gave Deborah and her son one last look. “Yes, Officer, I’m sure.”
The officer proceeded to whip out the cuffs. “Guess you’re an okay church folk after all,” the officer complimented her. “I mean, you still got no business acting out like this, and especially in front of this woman’s kid, but that’s what that church business is all about, huh? Recognizing your sins, admitting them, and then repenting for them?” He nodded. “That’s pretty noble of you.”
The next thing everyone heard was the clinking of the officer slamming the cuffs around Helen’s wrists.
