A Son's Tale

“You think I should bring the scrapbooks, then?”

“I think you should bring anything you want to bring.”

“Even his first baseball glove?” It was tiny enough to fit two-year-old fingers. Plastic and ripped.

“Okay, probably not that.” Julie chuckled. “Seriously, Morgan, report cards, inoculation records, his scouting achievement awards, that Great Reader certificate he got from the summer library program—those are the kinds of things you could have with you, just to show, if you need to, that Sammie is doing fine.”

“He achieves,” Morgan said, finding each of the items Julie mentioned among the menagerie on the table. “But none of that means he’s emotionally healthy or mentally well adjusted.”

“And if he’s not, it doesn’t mean you aren’t a good mother. It only means he needs help. We have a lot of kids in school that come from well-rounded two-parent families and still struggle. Sometimes because of disorders like ADHD, but other times the behavioral problems aren’t easily defined or explained. I’ve seen it more than once where you’ll have a couple of siblings from a family turn out fine and have a third that’s a problem.”

Morgan listened intently. Taking heart. Allowing Julie’s words to soothe the panic rising inside of her.

“Thank you.”

“I want to come with you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do that. It’s a closed hearing so you’d have to wait out in the hall, anyway.”

“So I’ll sit in the hall. I’d already requested a half-day vacation in case you needed me to testify.”

“So treat yourself to a rare morning off with no kids.”

Julie’s girls were at day camp all summer while she worked.

“Look, you don’t have to do this on your own.”

Lord knew, for once she wasn’t sure she could.

“What if the judge takes him away from me, Jules? What if tonight is the last night I have my boy sleeping here at home with me?”

“Don’t, Morgan. Don’t do that to yourself. You have to believe everything is going to be fine.”

“I want to believe that.” She had to hang on to hope. “I can’t imagine mornings without his little face frowning at me for one reason or another. Or his kissing me goodbye each day…” She choked up. Morgan swallowed and then said, “He still kisses me every single morning.”

“I’m not surprised. He loves you.”

“Not tonight he doesn’t. It’s probably a good thing he’s not going to be there tomorrow. I’m afraid he’d tell the judge that he didn’t want to live with me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Oh, I’ve been irritable all night. I snapped at him for chewing with his mouth open, and again when he put his glass down with too much force and splashed milk on the table. And he had the television turned up too loud. The poor little guy couldn’t get anything right.”

“You’re human, Morgan. And on edge. No one expects you to be perfect.”

Her father did. And tomorrow she had to be up to his standards.

“I sent Sammie to bed early. He threw a fit. Started in on the whole ‘babying him too much’ thing. He wouldn’t say his prayers in front of me.” Her eyes blurred with tears.

“And this time tomorrow everything will be better. Keep your chin up.”

“I’m trying.” But there was a very real possibility that things would not be better.

“Sammie needs that from you.”

And if Sammie needed it, she’d find a way. She always had.

“What time do you have to be in court?”