Nine Lives (11 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Give Up The Ghost

Juliet

I’m throwing away seven years of higher education today. Four years undergrad and three years of graduate school. I’m giving up the ghost, and I’m okay with it. I’m driving to my office to personally deliver my letter of resignation. They won’t care; it’s what they want. Heather Nelson was just charged with neglect and will probably lose custody of Jeremiah and Mary. She’ll lose Laina and Faith too, but that’s hard to be upset about, because it’s what they all seem to need anyway. To lose the younger ones though? For what? This is a mother who has successfully launched how many kids? I’m tired of watching it.

Heather’s not the only one under fire. I’ve been accused of being unethical, unprofessional, and even criminally negligent for not following up on Heather’s call about reporting what Slash did to Faith. Guilty as charged. I have thirty cases. I do my best to follow up on things, but Heather Nelson is a woman who does what she says she’s going to do. I assumed she’d done it when I hadn’t heard from her. She’s not someone who’s ever needed her hand held. How was I to guess that she got distracted by the neglect charges? Who can blame her? She’s about to lose her home and has had more stress in this past year than anyone could reasonably be expected to endure.

I’m tired of wasting so much time working with a family on case goals that are of no use. I could be spending my time working with real victims who aren’t using evil tactics to hurt anyone. I went into this profession to heal people. By participating in this, I am only hurting people and saying it’s okay to do this to a family. Sure, it’s very rare to find a family like the Nelsons. I’m fully aware that this case is unique. Does being different mean it’s less important? We’re trained to look at each case on its own merits. I’m supposed to assess family strengths and weaknesses. When I can’t get the people in power to even agree on what those are, I’m stuck. Now, I’m going to unstick myself; no matter what anyone has to say about it. I have nothing to lose except my integrity. I won’t lose that. No matter what.

They have no idea what unethical and unprofessional looks like yet. Wait until they catch wind of what I plan to do next. This will be as unprofessional as unprofessional gets and I’ll lose my social work license. Ask me if I care. I do not. There are moments in life that define you. This is mine. I am going to do what’s right. You can add my career to the list of casualties of Laina and Faith’s lies. I’m tired of not sleeping at night because I can’t successfully walk this line. The more I think about it, the more I realize the odds of Slash actually making advances toward Faith are less and less. The girl’s primary method of getting her way is to lie. Why should this be any different? Slash will probably end up in jail, right next to Tom Nelson. I won’t feel bad about that either. He had no problem going after Sadie when she was Laina’s age. Guilty or not, he deserves everything he has coming to him. See? I don’t always take the parents’ side.

I’m going to have exactly two weeks to work my magic. After that, I won’t be on the case anymore. I think I can do it. After I drop off my letter, I’m heading to Best Buy. I’m going to buy a tiny recorder that I’ll use to record my final termination sessions with the girls. Whatever I can get them to admit won’t be allowed in court. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be useful. Once the girls realize that I have recordings of them admitting to their lies, there will be a power shift. That will give Heather and Tom the power they need to finally get the girls to do the right thing. It won’t be bad to play for the local police department and media, either, who think Heather is a horrible mother for not believing her “innocent children.”

I don’t know why I care so much what happens with this case. I think it’s because I have such strong feelings about justice. I’ve spent years trying to get parents put away for doing unspeakable things to their children. I never expected to be on the other side of it, trying to help a father out. I’m tired of being up all night worried about how Tom’s doing in there. When I was seventeen, I dated a kid whose father was in jail for dealing pot. Today, people hardly care about pot. Some call it a gateway drug, but most just shrug it off as nothing big. That guy did ten years on those charges, and it really screwed his kid up. He was in there with a guy who only did six years for rape. I don’t understand the system. It seems like it’s all in who you have for an attorney or the mood of the judge on any given day. I’m tired of hearing about it, watching it, and trying to fix the fallout.

I’ve got a job interview at a diner up the street tomorrow. It’s hard to imagine going back to waitressing after all the time I’ve spent in school. I have thought about applying to law school to become a family law lawyer. I figure I’ve got more experience than anyone with how the family courts work. Now, it’s just a matter of learning more about the law. Imagine the look on the faces of those case managers at DCYF if they saw me walk into a courtroom. I can hear them now, thinking I’m naïve and unethical. “Remember how she believed those horrible parents on that one case?” they’d say. “What was that case, anyway? I wonder what happened to those poor, poor girls.” They’d pat themselves on the backs for taking Mary and Jeremiah away, sure they’d done the right thing in the name of the children’s best interest. They won’t bother to follow up. That’s just too much paperwork.

I pull into my office, keeping my head down as I mumble hello to the receptionist. I head straight for my boss’s office. Luckily, she’s not there. Or maybe it has nothing to do with luck. She’s barely ever at work. Generally she’s too busy nursing an alcohol addiction and watching CSI marathons on Netflix from her couch, claiming she’s swamped with paperwork, to show up. Just yesterday, when police found a two-year-old on the side of the road whose mother was passed out in the front seat of their car, my boss couldn’t even bother to call me back. This is a woman who is supposed to care about helping kids. Any doubt I have about whether or not I’m doing the right thing is healed by her empty chair.

I pop a Xanax and grab an envelope from her desk. I slip my letter of resignation into it, leaving it on her keyboard. I’m back in my car in under three minutes, confident that I’ve done the right thing. At the very least, Heather will know she has someone in her corner. And what’s the worst that could happen? My intentions are pure: to let the truth finally come out so that healing can eventually begin. Sadly, I won’t be able to be a part of that now. But this isn’t about me and never was. It’s about two little girls who are very confused and hurt who need help. Maybe this will be what it takes to get them the help they need. In the process, I’ll be able to save a family who doesn’t deserve any of this. That’s worth something. Right?

Chapter Fourteen

Scapegoat

Laina

Great. Faith’s pregnant. I wish I’d thought of that. I’d be with Tyler right now. What could they do to stop me? You can’t keep a guy away from his baby and the mother of his child, can you? Damn, Faith. So fucking smart! I wish she’d run the idea by me. I could have beat her to it. House arrest doesn’t stop much. I still get out almost every night. Now that Dad’s gone, it’s easy to get out. Mom sleeps like a rock, and as long as Tyler waits with his car on the other side of the woods, there aren’t any issues.

Here’s the thing. I have to be in court today. A probation hearing. My JPO is probably going to send me away, so there won’t be any time to get pregnant. I’ll be stuck in some residential home ’til I’m eighteen for failing a stupid drug test. I thought they only checked for hard stuff and maybe weed. I didn’t think they’d know about the Xanax I stole from that caseworker’s purse while she was busy whispering to Mom. They’ve never really cared about me sneaking out to see Tyler before. The whole thing is nuts, ya know?

Maybe I’ll get lucky and just get my house arrest extended. That judge likes me. I’ll smile at him and tell him I didn’t understand. When that doesn’t work, I bring on the fake tears. It’s so easy to get men to feel bad for you—at least when you’re pretty. It’s like they want to save the world.

Even if they do lock me up, I’ll get out. Last time, I made it all the way to Sadie’s, two hours south of the stupid girls’ home they sent me to. I was able to spend the night in Tyler’s arms. They know I’ll do it again. And again. Maybe they won’t send me away because they know they can’t stop what’s meant to be. They know I won’t just sit there and take it. If I have to, I’ll get close to a guy at the home and say he’s hitting on me. Like what Faith’s doing to poor Slash. They’ll believe it. Look how they believed us about Dad. The system makes it too easy.

I found a poem today, tucked in a notebook I stole last time I ran away from the girls’ home placement. One of the girls there killed herself a month after she wrote it. I figured someone should keep it, ya know? Keep her memory alive. Make her less invisible. She didn’t sign her name, and I can’t remember it, but the poem goes like this:

4/16/13

At the Children’s Home.

Mansions on Columbia Ave.

A van pulls out.

Carrying orphans.

To Walmart.

(On Fridays, it’s for ice cream).

Birds chirp.

A bell rings.

The quiet room and,

Two teens.

Cooking Easter ham.

For breakfast.

(Breaking rules).

My dad’s a drunk.

So I asked for forty bucks.

The night he shared his Tequila.

Dad? I’m twelve years old.

He cried.

And I had fun with myself.

In a corner.

Now, Tequila’s not allowed.

In our house.

Because it makes me emotional.

(Can’t have emotions).

School was good.

A kid threw nuts.

And it was funny.

I’ll be right back–

There’s lot’s going on.

In the OG—

Older girls.

I told her I’d rescue her.

She said, “I love you.”

My dad has Hep C.

And is always in trouble.

But Dad is Dad.

And he shouldn’t have to pay the state.

’Cause they took me.

Stepmom’s crazy—

Lesions on the brain.

Flails her arms when she’s mad.

(I get hives).

The OG’s full.

Cars drive by.

Mansion-lined streets.

Near a big old park.

Another person’s dream.

You’d never know.

Hell’s breaking loose.

But I’m following rules.

Of the Children’s Home.

I don’t know where our dreams.

Went off track

I only know you can’t make me feel.

So…

Take me for a ride.

In your story.

Once upon a past.

God is my eraser.

Time, now, for me.

Is in a corner of hell.

Drinking Tequila.

By myself—

That’s all.

See why I love it? That girl was as alone as I feel. Sad that she’s dead. We would have been friends. The one good thing about placement is other girls there usually get it. They are invisible too. If I thought I was invisible before, I was dreaming. The last week has been all about Faith. She told everyone who would listen, even my old BFF, Harley. I’m sorta jealous about that. Harley still won’t speak to me. Mom’s been locking herself up, on the phone with Hope and Jada, probably in some conference call group prayer for the salvation of Faith’s dirty love child. Who knows. Who cares.

Faith is gonna get exactly what she wants, which is to get out of here. She’ll get to live with Hunter and his mother. I’m so mad at myself for not thinking of this. I mean, the answer was right there, in my face. Mom would never let us get abortions—no matter what Harley or the caseworkers have to say about it—“thou shalt not kill, Laina.” I wonder what Hunter and Dad will think of all of this. I wish I could just follow Faith around, like she’s a guinea pig, and see how this all plays out, if it would work for Tyler and me.

The difference between Faith and me is that I’m sixteen. Faith’s not old enough to consent to sex. That means Hunter could get in trouble. I wonder if she’s thought of that. Maybe that’s why she hasn’t told him yet. It makes me laugh, thinking of Dad hearing the news in jail and unable to do a thing about it. All he had to do was let us live our own lives and make our own decisions, and this wouldn’t be happening. If she wants to protect Hunter, Faith would be smart to make Slash the scapegoat for this. Then again, there’s always paternity testing. God, this is going to be interesting to watch.

That judge better not throw me back in the girls’ home. Not now. There’s too much going on. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to be home. Who knew it’d take something like this to make me content with being on house arrest, stuck on the couch, and watching the Nelson Family Armageddon explosion? Way to go, Faith. She always was my favorite sister.

I wish Tyler would answer his phone. I need him to go to court today. It’s always crowded on Thursdays. With Mom and the others so distracted, they’d never notice him there. Mom’s got the whole neglect charge to think about too, not just Faith. Give me some credit for that one, that worked exactly according to plan. If only I’d known about the Xanax. I could have had Jeremiah pee for me ahead of time. He’ll do anything for a five spot. He’s done it before.

I’m not in total dreamland when it comes to Tyler. I see his flaws. Texting, for one. For every thirty texts I send, I get about four in return. He’s not a big talker. The other girls bother me too. He swears they won’t exist when we can finally be together. He says he has needs, and he can’t tolerate living under my parents’ rules. Tell me about it. I can’t fault him for that.

I do worry that I haven’t been with many other guys. What if there’s someone out there whose better for me than Tyler? Are there guys who text back and are willing to wait? That’s the only part Faith may have screwed up. What if there are better guys out there for her than Hunter? Now, she’s sort of stuck. I don’t want her to end up like Mom. I bet she will, though. They say history repeats itself. If that’s true, the kid Faith’s carrying is her Hope. And in thirty years, she’ll be on kid number nine. Hunter will be a tyrant who thinks he’s in charge of everyone in their lives. Okay, so on second thought, maybe I’m not so jealous of Faith.

If Tyler shows today, I’ll feel so much better. It gets old trying to think of things myself. Faith has been on another planet and all gloomy. He’s the only one who really sees me. A couple of weeks ago, when I snuck out to see him, he had an Almond Joy waiting for me in his car. I love Almond Joys. I’m not even allowed to eat candy at home. “Too much sugar, Laina. You have to take care of your body—God’s temple—Laina.”

There’s got to be a way to use this Faith pregnancy thing to my advantage. If I told that new shrink about it, I could say it was causing me too much anxiety to be at home. Maybe she’d recommend I be allowed to leave and go live with Tyler. It’s not like we’d have to get married right away or anything. We could just try it out, like playing house. I guess it’s dumb to even think about this until I know what’s going to happen in court today. I swear, if that probation officer—whichever one of them decides to show—recommends long-term placement, I’ll hang myself. Like that girl who wrote the poem did, ya know?

You think I’m kidding. I’m not. Well, maybe about the hanging part. But if I can’t see Tyler and wind up locked up ’til I’m eighteen, suicide is a real answer. ’Cause there’s no way that I’m doing that. You don’t know what it’s like in those homes. I thought Dad was bad, but in these places, they literally schedule every minute of your day. And the people they put you with who are supposed to be helping you? They are just as screwed up as the girls in there. The last time I snuck out, all it took was a quick blow job to one of the male counselors, and I was right out that door. Explain to me how that’s therapeutic for any “troubled girl.” I’d really love to hear it.

If I had to kill myself, I’d probably overdose. The great thing about being in a treatment place is it’s easy to get and hoard drugs. They think they have it all figured out. But the girls in those places are smarter. It’s like a home for a bunch of mes running around, and when they want to collect, sell, buy, trade, and pop pills? Well, let’s just say it happens. I made $500 in under a week selling my roommate’s ADHD meds. Not a bad week’s work. I can see why Tyler dabbles in that stuff. He’s the one who gave me the Xanax. He gave me my first pill. It was just one pill. Just to calm me down. Since then, I’ve found other ways to get them. It’s not easy to stay calm living with my mother and her rules you know.

That’s one of the reasons Mom and Dad never liked Tyler. They never took the time to meet him and only go by what they’ve heard about him. Carnal sin number one is that he doesn’t go to church. This means, in their eyes, that he’s a devil worshiper. They live with a kid—Faith—who cuts pentagrams into her arms, and they still love her. Okay, correction. Lived. Dad lives with killers and stuff now. But you know what I’m saying. The point is that I don’t think a person has to go to church to be a good person or to believe in God. Hell, even the Pope is saying this now. How is the Pope cooler than my parents? Tyler does believe in God. They just haven’t bothered to find that out. They see him as this druggie atheist whose only mission in life is to rob me of my virginity and destroy our family. Well? Newsflash. Tyler didn’t take my virginity and our family was destroyed long before he came around.

Tyler doesn’t even do the hard drugs. He’s never even tried cocaine. Slash does heroin, for God’s sake. Sadie doesn’t even care. That’s not something I’d like very much. But she loves him. Or his money. I’m not sure. It’s not my business. Tyler only smokes pot and takes medications for anxiety and depression. If a doctor gives it to you, what’s the big deal? He has a prescription. He only takes it when he really, really needs it. The rest he sells to people who can’t afford to go to a doctor. Mom acts like he stands outside of elementary schools bullying little kids to buy pills. Give me a break. It’s okay for her druggie caseworker friend to take meds but not my man? Whatever.

Another reason they hate him is because he’s thirty. All I can say to that is so what? He took a long time to grow up. That’s not really that strange for guys. Not every guy is like Joseph, all perfectly together by the time they are twenty. It’s not like Joseph’s happy anyway. His wife, Missy, is a bitch. She’s constantly nagging at him to do things around the house. There’s a couple who could stand to get some birth control. They, like Hope and David, are going to wind up just like Mom and Dad if they don’t watch it. The funny thing is that I don’t think they mind. It’s got to be an ego thing: “How many kids can we make? Can we beat Mom and Dad?” Nobody ever thinks about what it’s like to be those kids, one of the younger ones anyway—after the parents are too tired to give a damn. I hope Faith realizes it and stops at one or two. Maybe she’ll have twins and just be done with it after this. God knows the world doesn’t need more Nelsons. Or will they be Rounds? I wonder what Hunter will do.