For the Children

“Show me your arm, Abraham,” she said.

He held out his right arm.

“Not that one.”

The boy flung his left arm out and then drew it back.

“Again,” Valerie said. “And roll up your sleeve.”

Slowly, gazing at his mother the entire time, Abraham did as she’d ordered.

An ugly, multicolored bruise covered the boy from his wrist to his elbow.

“Now, would you please show the court your shoulder?”

“Judge, I hardly think—” Abraham’s attorney began.

“Now, Abraham. Please,” Valerie interrupted.

Abraham’s big brown eyes implored his mother, who finally nodded. She helped her son get his shirt off enough to expose one shoulder blade.

He stood, turned, displaying the welted and broken flesh, and then quickly sat, pulling his shirt back on without apparent regard for the pain he must be causing himself.

“I see there are bruises on your body, Abraham. What happened?”

“I fell out of a tree.”

“He was playing out by the cemetery,” his mother said, her eyes wide and innocent as she faced Valerie.

“The one by Cypress Lane?” It was the only cemetery anywhere near the trailer park where Abraham lived.

“Yes.”

“I’m not aware of any trees in that vicinity. At least not ones suitable for climbing.”

“That’s because I fell off the cemetery wall,” Abraham said, his right thumb thumping on the table as his chin jutted out at her.

“Is that the truth, Abraham?” Valerie gave him another chance to talk to her. To help her help him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She took a deep breath. It didn’t release the ache inside her. “Abraham, I’m ordering a C.P.S. investigation,” she said, writing on the page in front of her. “In addition, I’m ordering that temporary custody be given to C.P.S. until the investigation is completed.”

Abraham nodded, his expression stoic. Valerie couldn’t look at his mother. But she heard her gasp. And could practically feel the energy seep from the younger woman.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say?” she asked the boy.

“No, ma’am.”

Taken aback by the boy’s complacent reaction to the news she’d feared would unhinge him, Valerie turned to his mother.

“Ms. Billings, you are entitled to a hearing in this court five days from now to contest this decision if you feel so inclined.”

She wished she hadn’t looked at Abraham’s mother. The utter despair in the woman’s posture, her expression, her eyes, was mirrored deep inside Valerie. She’d known it would feel like this.