“A little better,” she said.
“That’s good. This is my friend here, Nurse Tyson. She’s going to take you to another room to play for a little while so that I can talk to your mother. Is that okay?”
“Can I go with Kylie instead?”
I felt a brief and smug satisfaction over Raya asking for me, and I almost volunteered to go with her. But then I remembered my break would soon be over, and I’d have to rejoin Dr. Mason.
“Not today, sweetie,” Max answered. “But I promise you, Nurse Tyson is just as nice. And she’s even got a friend with her! This is…”
“Laila. I’m the intern working with Nurse Tyson this week. It’s so nice to meet you, Raya!”
“What’s an intern?” Raya asked suspiciously.
“An intern is a student. It just means I’m still in school, like you!”
“Why are you still in school? You’re old!” Raya exclaimed, drawing a brief laugh in what would soon turn into a not-so-funny situation.
“Well, I’m not that old,” Laila said. “Come on—I’ll tell you all about school for old people.”
“Okay.”
I listened to their retreating footsteps, knowing that the light-hearted moment was over. I clenched my fists at the sides of my chair, waiting with bated breath for Max to resume.
“Look, Mrs. Michaelson—I’m not good at sugar-coating things.”
“Fine by me. I’m not much for suga
r, anyway. I’ve never been fond of anything too sweet.”
“Raya has some suspicious marks on her wrists. They’ve raised some concern and Child Protective Services have been called.”
There was a pregnant pause in the air, making me worry the woman and Max could hear my heart pounding.
“But she’s a kid. She could have gotten them scars from anywhere… You know how kids are.”
“I don’t know. You tell me. What’s your relationship with your daughter like, ma’am?”
“It’s fine!”
“She tends to seem a little nervous around you. And the last time I saw her, she insinuated to my nurse that there were people—as in more than one—hurting her.”
Another long pause. I had expected Mrs. Michaelson to start arguing at any second, but instead, there was a loud and long sniff. When she spoke again, her voice was heavily choked with tears.
“It’s not my fault. She just… she acts up sometimes, and you know how kids are. You have to put them in check.”
“Not with abuse.”
“It’s not abuse. Not really. It’s nothing compared to what would happen if her father gets ahold of her…”
“Her father serves in the military, correct?”
“Yes. And… He’s been through so much. It… It’s changed him. When he comes home, he gets so angry sometimes. He’s just stressed out and Raya—she doesn’t know any better. She gets in his way and he… Well, I have to deal with her so that he doesn’t get ahold of her himself…”
“Are you familiar with the term post-traumatic stress disorder, Mrs. Michaelson?”
“N-no…”
“Well, I’m actually very glad you confided in me. PTSD is something very common among people in military services because just like you’ve said—they’ve seen too much. So we’re going to get in touch with your husband, and we’re going to do what we can to get him some help. It sounds like he needs therapy. In the meantime, we’re going to have to do what’s best for Raya. So she’s going to be taken out of harm’s way for a while, until her safety can be guaranteed.”