Vicious

by Murphy, A. E.

“The system is fucked, but then we already knew that,” Webber says with a heavy sigh. “Anyway, that’s the bad news. The good news is… for you guys… she’s in an all-girls’ home in Austin, Crestview. She’s been there since she was six and she seems to be happy there.”

  “You’ve met her?” I question and he hesitates again.

  “I met her with a court-appointed social worker. She’s an incredibly bright kid but she has some serious abandonment issues according to her main carer who is a brilliant and loving woman called Stacey Deegan.”

  “Oh my God,” I choke, and this time Kane tries to comfort me. “Does that mean I’m not allowed to see her?”

  “On the contrary, it means you’ve got every chance to get her back.”

  You could hear a pin drop, the air turns still and suddenly I feel faint.

  “It wouldn’t be as easy as showing up and taking her home, we’d need to assess your accommodation, figure out a support group, you’d need parenting classes to help you deal with and understand her issues.” He sounds so happy but also cautious. “But, this all means in a couple of months, maybe more maybe less, you could have your daughter back.”

  “Oh my God,” I sob, turning into Kane’s body and hugging him as I try to hold myself together by holding onto him.

  “You’re sure?” Kane questions.

  “Absolutely,” Webber replies.

  “Then tell us everything we need to do and we’ll do it.”

  “I’ll send you an email with all the details of her social worker, he’s waiting for your call, all the things I know the state will want to see in order to deem you fit to parent.”

  “Fit to parent,” Poppy growls, “Do they not understand that this is their kid?”

  Webber shuffles, making the phone crackle. “Of course they do, but this isn’t as simple as their kid going missing and being returned. She doesn’t know you from Adam. She’s been abandoned and she remembers it, that shit stays with you, she’s got friends and a life there and from what I’m hearing a very close bond with some of her carers. The state can’t just rip her away and put her with strangers, that’s not how it works. This has to be handled delicately.”

  “We understand,” I utter because as hard as it is to accept, I really do understand. “When can we meet her?”

  “Soon as you call her social worker, his name’s David Michaelson, he’ll set you up with a meeting and talk you through everything else.” Webber chuckles, a happy sound. “Don’t stress guys, any judge worth their shit will see how much love you guys have for your kid, and I will personally speak for you. Ain’t got nothing bad to say.”

  “Webber.” I inhale and exhale. “Thank you.”

  “Shit, don’t thank me. Not for this. Did my duty and failed you for eight years, still kicking myself over that missed email account.”

  “Naw,” Kane snaps, “If you blame yourself for that I gotta blame myself for never finding Immy. Shit happens. We miss things. It’s all workin’ out.”

  “Hell yeah it is,” Poppy cheers and her beaming smile shines on us all. “This is so exciting!”

  “I’m gonna leave y’all to it,” Webber states, “got a ton of other cases to work on. If you need anything, you call. Email should have hit your inbox by now.”

  I thought Kane moved fast before, but he snatches up my phone and looks for my email app before I can even think about getting to it.

  Seeing him read that email and dial that number without hesitation tells me just how much Kane Jessop loves his kid. Part of me knows I couldn’t blame him if he hated me for the rest of his life for what I kept from him, but a bigger part of me knows that Kane Jessop understands stupid decision making and has forgiven me despite the fact I haven’t asked him for it yet.

  “It’s all gonna work out,” Poppy insists, rubbing my back as I listen to the feint dial tone.

  “It really is,” I breathe.

  “Hello?” a male voice questions and Kane breathes a sigh of relief.

  “Is this David Michaelson?” Kane questions, his voice commanding and gruff and I pull the phone away from his ear so I can press the loudspeaker icon.

  “It sure is, can I ask who is calling?” His voice fills the room just like Webber’s did and my heart swells in my chest from the excitement and adrenaline.

  “It’s Kane Jessop, Webber sent us your details.”

  “Ah, yes! Connie’s biological parents.” He sounds so happy to hear from us. “I’ve been so excited for your call. It’s not often these days that we get such a happy outcome.”

  “You sound so sure of that.”

  “Because you’re her parents,” he says around a laugh. “I’m not in the business of separating families or keeping them separated. I’m going to be the one to bring you all back together and that is exactly why I signed up for this job.”

  He sounds so confident. I’m glad he does, I don’t feel it. This all feels way too good to be true.

  “What do we need to do to meet her?”

  “Nothin’, I’m gonna come and assess your situations. With her bein’ older and having the difficulties she has, I need to ensure that the people coming into her life, parents or not, have her best interests at heart.”

  “Of course,” I agree because he’s one hundred percent right.

  “So I’ll come and see y’all when you’re available. We’ll talk through what’s gonna happen with Connie and where you want her to live, and what I think is best for her in terms of schooling and what needs to happen with y’all. But don’t worry about any of that. I’m not a dictator, I’m not here to judge, I’m just here to guide you all to the right place so Connie can come home. That is the goal. That is, right now, my only goal.”

  Damn he can talk for America, but I do appreciate what he’s saying.

  “So if we set up a meeting and then after we’ve spoken we will introduce you to Connie on a supervised basis.”

  “Does she know about us?” I ask, voice trembling. “Does she know I didn’t give her away?”

  “She does.”

  “And how did she take it.”

  He clears his throat and my hope starts to wither away. “She was… emotional. She doesn’t quite believe it and nobody can really blame her for that. But she’ll come around.”

  “You said she has difficulties and Webber said she has abandonment issues,” Kane puts in, sounding guarded and wary. “What does that mean exactly?”

  “It means that Connie struggles to form relationships with people. She was abandoned at a church with no reason as to why and unfortunately her adoptive parents were a little too transparent with her over that fact, and then she was abandoned again by them and she never understood why. She loved those parents like any kid would. She remembers being happy, she remembers baking and painting and going on trips to the park and museums. They didn’t even say goodbye when they left her.”

  My heart breaks.

  “It was my colleague who dealt with her case back then and it took her six months to get Connie to stop sitting in the hall, waiting for them to come back. It’s a tragic case really. I wish things could have been different for her.”

  Kane’s hands have balled into fists. “Don’t ever tell me their names, Chief.”

  “Sometimes, in this line of work, and I never said this, but… I wish I could say their names.” He laughs sadly. “It’s gut wrenching and I know it must be hard to hear but kids are so resilient and so strong. Connie will start connecting with people, she’ll learn to love again, and you guys will be such a beautiful family. What happened in her past will become just that. The past.”

  If she’s anything like me she’ll never be able to let it go.

  A tear slips from my eye, I’ve been desperately holding onto it because I don’t want my voice to shake while I talk. Kane hooks me around the shoulders and kisses my temple.

  “Right, so when can I come see y’all? The sooner the better. I want complete honesty from both of you. Don’t pretend like you’ve
gotta be together or you’ve gotta live together. I’m here to help you figure all that out. You don’t have to parent together you’ve just got to support each other and most importantly, always prioritize Connie. She cannot take another hit. She cannot be in another family that’s going to break.”

  “We will do anything…” Kane bites out through gritted teeth. “Anything for that kid. Understand that. You’ll have the whole picture of who me and Imogen are. Don’t worry about that.”

  “Good.” There’s a pause as he seems to shuffle through something, maybe papers but I can’t be sure as I’m only hearing it. “Right then. When can I come and see y’all?”

  “Soon as you like?”

  Connie – 8 Years Old

  I’ve been raised my entire life to respect my elders and always use my manners. Because manners don’t cost nothing. I disagree, these old people always doing me wrong. Why should I use manners or be respectful? I’m not some little girly princess wanting a fairytale like all the other girls I share a room with. I had parents; they weren’t nothing special. Which means I ain’t nothing special. Which means I don’t deserve nothing special.

  The girls in my room all are waiting for it, that something special. Daydreaming about a happy home, refusing to believe they could be loved by the family who already failed them. I’m not that deluded, and I wish they wouldn’t be either.

  Deluded is my new word of the week.

  “It’s perfetic,” I declare, folding my arms over my chest and wincing as Stacey pulls the brush through my hair.

  “Pathetic,” she corrects.

  “I can’t say that, Stacey, you know I ain’t got enough teef!”

  She laughs at my reflection in the mirror and twists three strands of my hair into a tight braid.

  “Stop laughin’ at me.”

  “I’m laughing with you,” she insists, laughing harder when I scowl.

  “Those people still comin’ today?” I ask with a lisp.

  She raises a brow, the perfect pointed end lifts making her green eyes look bigger. “You mean your parents?”

  I snort and roll my eyes.

  “You be kind to them Connie. I’m warnin’ you.”

  I roll my eyes again, this time with a sigh. “I’m never mean.”

  “We both know that’s not true.”

  “Okay then I’m never mean on purpose.”

  She grins and shakes her head as her fingers wind a hair tie around the end of my braid. “We both definitely know that’s not true.”

  “You’re always bullyin’ me.”

  At that she laughs and gives my hair a tug. “You’re ready. Did you brush your teeth? Or what’s left of them anyway.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Good. Then let’s go meet your parents, shall we?”

  A girl from my room, her name is Melody, let’s out a happy sound and insists, “You’re so lucky, Connie.”

  Stacey taps me on the head and gives me a pointed look. “Don’t you roll your eyes.”

  “Don’t you tell me how to live my life,” I retort and stand. “Melody, I ain’t lucky. Give it a week or two and these people will never come back.”

  Melody’s smile fades and she looks at Stacey for comfort. “She doesn’t want them. Can I have them?”

  “Oh sweetie,” Stacey utters, and they hug it out.

  I puff out my cheeks and glower at myself in the mirror. Thick brown hair, weird blue eyes, no front teeth so I can stick my tongue through them. All the girls my age lost their front teeth ages ago, Stacey tells me I’m just a late bloomer and there ain’t nothing wrong with that. She doesn’t see this face in the mirror every day.

  “Just remember,” Stacey utters after ushering Melody from the room. She places her hands on my shoulders and I frown at her nails. I don’t like nail biting. It’s a nasty habit. “It’s not their fault that they didn’t get to keep you. Just like it’s not your fault. And they’re your momma and daddy, they’re gonna have loved you before they ever got to meet you. Let them have that. Let them be affectionate. Let them give you that love and then maybe one day, and hopefully soon, you’ll trust them enough to love them back in return.”

  I don’t say anything, I just nod and let her guide me out of the bedroom with her hands still on my shoulders.

  It has been a month since that cop man and my social worker, David, both sat me down and told me about them. Feels a lot less.

  I thought they’d have given up by now but I guess they’ve gotta see me first. When they see me and when they see I’m not lovable, they’ll leave. That’s what happened before… twice… and that’s what will happen again. I ain’t holding my breath.

  “You ready?” Stacey asks, pulling up my grey leggings and pulling down my pink top. It has a unicorn on it that changes color depending which way you smooth the sequins. When I said to my teacher that this type of top was made by men as an excuse to touch the chests of little girls, I had to go see my therapist again but I thought I had a good point.

  My therapist thought it was funny, so did Stacey. They both say I’m a very witty and switched on kid. I don’t know what that means, so long as they don’t think I’m deluded.

  As we approach the door of the meeting lounge, a special room designed for moments like this, I can hear them whispering inside and my heart starts beating so hard in my chest. They’re going to hate me. They’re going to take one look at me and hate me. Or worse, they’re going to love me like a new kitty and then get rid of me when they lose interest. That’s why I’m here. That’s also why we have the fuzzy cat that used to live three doors down the street.

  I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be here. This ain’t fair. I don’t want to go through this again.

  I stop and Stacey hits my back and we both almost fall.

  “No,” I say, pulling away but she grabs my arm. “No no no!”

  “Connie,” Stacey implores. “They drove all this way.”

  “Then they can drive all that way back!” I shout, pulling away but she grips me harder. I beat on her arm with my fist, breath coming out in pants. “LET GO OF ME!”

  I kick her in the shin so hard she releases me and shouts the word caterpillar instead of a real swear. Then I bolt, letting my legs carry me to the front door but David appears and grabs me around the middle.

  “Connie,” he admonishes as I punch and kick at every part of him I can.

  “I DON’T WANT TO!” I screech, tears burning my cheeks. “I DON’T! LET ME GO! YOU CAN’T MAKE ME! YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!”

  “Let her go, Jesus H Christ,” shouts the biggest man I ever saw. David drops me on the ground and I look up at the man with long hair and tattoos peeking over his white button up. “Forcing her ain’t gonna help none!”

  “Kane,” the woman standing slightly behind him to his right whispers. She has really pretty, really kind eyes.

  “I was just stopping her from bolting,” David assures him, grabbing my arm again and helping me to my feet. “Connie, you good?”

  I sniffle and dry my face on my arm. “Let go of me.”

  “She looks just like you,” the woman whispers to the big man and he grins this weird grin that makes her grin. They’re both crazy people.

  I’m pretty sure I have the same eyes as him though. Does that mean I’ll be giant too? Maybe then I can stomp on everyone and everything in my big boots like the ones he’s wearing.

  “That’s going to bruise, you know that right?” Stacey tells me, showing me a red mark on her shin. “Not cool, Connie. You’re too old to be throwing tantrums and hitting people.”

  “Says who?” I bite back.

  She huffs, frustrated. “Apologize.”

  “I’m sorry you’re a baby.”

  “Connie…” David is also using a tone. “This ain’t like you. Don’t be spoiling your good behavior or you won’t get your tablet this weekend.”

  My cheeks flame as they all stare at me. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

 
“Yes you did,” Stacey insists and bends to my level. I hate it when she does this, it always means she’s about to explain something and try make me learn something I don’t wanna learn. “You know you did and that’s not nice. You really hurt me back there.”

  “You wouldn’t let me go.”

  She presses her lips together, stands to full height and looks at the giant and his lady. “She’s embarrassed, she gets stubborn when she’s embarrassed.”

  “Sounds like somebody else I know,” the lady utters, and I decide I like her voice and accent.

  “Watch it,” the man with the big arms and chest snaps but he’s smiling at her. Why do they look at each other like that? It’s all gooey eyed and weird.

  My last parents didn’t look at each other like that, they mostly just ignored each other from what I can remember.

  “Why don’t we go back into the room?” David suggests and I notice some of the girls sitting on the stairs watching the exchange.

  “Connie is such a brat,” Ellie, one of the older girls says with a roll of her eyes. I glare at her and stick out my tongue.

  I am not a brat. I just don’t like people very much.

  “And you smell like feet!”

  “Okay,” David calls and steers me back the way we just came. “Let’s carry this on in the meeting room. You can draw us a picture, Connie. Show off your mad skills.”

  “I don’t much feel like drawing.” I lift myself up into the chair at the end of the table and swing my legs, the toes of my shoes just skim the ground. I’m not short, these chairs are just real big.

  David slides a blank sketchpad my way and my favorite pack of crayons. I hate that they know what crayons I like to us.

  “Immy can draw,” the big man says, sitting in the seat two down. His lady, aka Immy, sits to my left between us. “She’s real good. You got her talent?”

  “I can’t draw,” I respond, pushing the pad away but secretly I really want to show them something I’ve done, and I really want to see what she can do.

  She pulls the pad her way. “You like unicorns?”

  “I like zombies.”

  “Me too,” the big man growls. His voice is so rough and deep. I bet he’s good at telling stories. Bet I could make him tell me one.