18. Cecelia
Icouldn’t seem to move. I stood perfectly still and tried to make sense of the words Greta was essentially flinging at me. She didn’t talk to me. She spoke in my direction. And this morning, she was hurling words at rapid speed.
I should have tried to weave and duck. Maybe some of her barrage would have missed me.
Greta stopped speaking. After I didn’t immediately reply, she finally glanced up from her work, her face pinched. “Well?”
“I… I’m confused.”
“Cecelia, haven’t you been listening?” she snapped.
“Yes, I have been. And I listen every time you tell me anything. When I asked you about the situation with Sterling Alexander, you told me that I was only going to have one client at a time. So, how is it that I’m being punished for doing my job?”
“You’re supposed to help locate resources and work through difficult situations your client comes to you with.”
I nodded. Yes, that was my understanding, and that’s what yesterday’s very long day, evening activities notwithstanding, was all about. I opened my mouth to defend myself and say just that when Greta continued.
“It has come to my attention that you spent the day at the zoo with your client.”
I cast my eyes around the piles in her office. How had she learned that so fast? I had only mentioned it briefly to Peggy, the other agent in the office pool, when I came in this morning.
“Did you get a sunburn?” Peggy asked.
I had just arrived at my desk and started putting my bags away when Peggy started bombarding me with questions.
“You didn’t come in yesterday. What were you doing?” The inquiry continued.
“Yes, I spent a good part of the day outside. I took my client to the zoo, sort of a test run of his ability to take Georgie out into the world.”
“How exactly does that work? Did you actually learn anything?” Peggy continued with more questions.
“It was remarkably successful. And when we sat down to review where the problems were, we ended up making a huge game plan, finding all kinds of holes and things that had been missed. Hey, do you know if there are master files somewhere?”
Peggy lifted her brows.
“I have the client file, but there seems to be some information missing. I figure if those records are available, they would be in a master file,” I said.
She shrugged. “I’ve never not had the information I needed. You can check with Greta.”
“Thanks. I will.”
And then I went back to putting my things away. I went into the break room and poured a cup of coffee. While I was there, I made the necessary copies I needed to fill in to create the report I needed to put together this morning. I returned to my desk. Peggy wasn’t at hers, but I didn’t put any serious thought to it. We had work to do. I assumed she was doing hers.
I had just started to compose my report when Greta had used the phone intercom system to ask me into her office. She didn’t look up as I stepped into her office before she started hurling words at me. At first, I thought she was barraging me with questions because she always seemed to be multitasking and in a hurry. But she never paused long enough for me to respond.
“We are concerned you are falling in love with your client.”
Those words were a complete sucker punch to the solar plexus. I struggled for air. There was no way she could have known about my feelings for Sterling. None. And unless they had spies watching me, there wasn’t any reason for them to think I had… Nope, I wasn’t even going to let that thought enter my mind in case I somehow blurted out the truth of what happened between me and Sterling.
“You are spending excessive time with the baby, taking her to the zoo, watching her in the evening so her guardian can attend events?—”
“That’s not what happened. I clearly put in my report that the client overstepped and that I?—”
Greta waved my concern away. “Regardless, you’re being reassigned. We have already made the decision.”
What ‘we’? The greater office was like a ghost town. I had only ever met Peggy and another caseworker, Jeanne. And as far as management was concerned, I hadn’t met anyone. There was one woman who would have whispered conversations with Greta from time to time, but I had no idea who she was.
I was beginning to think that maybe this agency wasn’t as renowned as I had thought or been led to believe.
Closing my eyes, I took a few seconds to compose myself. Yes, I did find Georgie adorable, and yes, I was probably too invested in making certain Sterling properly took care of her. I wanted their situation to be a success story. I didn’t want Georgie to grow up the way I had—tolerated. And yes, maybe I wanted to be around them more than what could be considered professional interest.
Opening my eyes, I tried to pin my stare on Greta, but she was back at flipping through file folders and muttering how this would be so much easier if someone would just requisition a laptop for her.
I let out a long, slow breath. “Okay. Whom should I return the Alexander file to?”
Greta patted one of the many piles on her desk. “You can just leave it here.”
“Is there a master file on the baby? Her guardian”—I didn’t know if I could say their names without getting upset— “needs some medical records so he can take her to a well baby appointment.”
“Is the baby sick?” Greta asked.
“Not at all. But we agreed yesterday that she should probably have a checkup to make sure there aren’t any health issues he should be aware of.” I hesitated. She was ignoring me already. “I’ll just put it in my report.”
“You do that. We’ll need a thorough assessment, including all actions taken and where you were in the greater scheme of things.”
I nodded. I understood. They needed me to do a complete dump of everything, and not just a bi-weekly progress report. Instead of putting down that on an excursion intended to assess the readiness of the client, we found out how woefully unprepared he is in all phases of caring for a child, and the resulting task list was created, I was going to have to document everything. And I was pretty sure they wanted everything.
Fine. I would write the Georgie and Sterling story thus far for them, leaving out anything that had to do with my feelings on the matter. They were going to get an amazing report from me.
As I started to leave, Greta stopped me. “Cecelia.”
“Yeah?” I stopped and waited.
“You need to complete that report and get the file back to my desk by noon. I’ve got a meeting and will need that so I can reassign the case.”
That’s not what I hoped to hear. I had wanted her to tell me to take my time.
“You don’t have the client’s information on your phone, do you?” Greta asked.
“Yeah, so I can call. I did some shopping for them last night.”
She shook her head and held her hand out. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I warned you about. Getting too close. Unlock your phone, please.” She wiggled her fingers until I placed my phone in her hand.
My heart lodged in my throat as she began navigating the screen on my phone. Oh, God, what if she saw the pictures of us at the zoo? We were all in yellow, all looking like a family. My stomach dropped, and panic sweat beaded along my spine.
With deft swipes and pokes, she deleted Sterling Alexander from my contacts. “Does he have your number?” She handed the phone back.
I shook my head, still not sure if I could breathe properly enough to answer. I didn’t know if he had it. I couldn’t remember. He knew where I lived. He had given me his number in case I needed it while out, but I hadn’t called or texted him. “I don’t think so.”
“Don’t go copying out of the file. That’s a breach of confidentiality. And a very serious violation, as far as we are concerned. You understand what I’m saying?” She looked up at me again, her eyes narrowed.
Why couldn’t she just say the words and not expect me to fill in the unspoken blank? “My job is on the line if I use my access to their personal information to contact them now that I’m no longer their case worker.”
“Dr. Gareth was right, you are a smart young woman who catches on quickly. Report and file by noon.” She patted the pile again.
I had been dismissed.
Greta had taken office gossip and extrapolated that I was getting too close to the client. How often did that happen in this job? Was I simply following in a well-worn path of first-time social workers getting too involved because we wanted to care, and so we cared too much?
I was numb when I sat at my desk. I flipped open the file. Sterling’s number was right there. I tried to memorize it, but I knew by the time I was done with my report— more a catalog of events, actions, and subsequent tasks for the client to complete— I would have forgotten the string of numbers.