37. Chanice #2
Dana begins to counter, but I can’t hear her.
I can’t hear anything she says as the room starts to spin.
I look around, trying to find something to latch onto, but all I see is darkness dancing in and out of my vision.
I gasp for air, but no matter how wide I open my mouth, nothing seems to be coming in.
“Chanice,” I hear, as something comes down on my shoulder. I look over to see Alex staring at me. He takes a breath in and out and motions for me to do the same. I follow his lead, but still feel like everything is on its axis.
“Ask the kids yourself,” Dana finally concludes.
Judge Martin looks at them, his eyes assessing. I don’t know what he sees, but when I turn, I see kids bawling and absolutely terrified. When he speaks, I know I will wonder for the rest of my life what he took that as.
“While I understand that this might have been your experience. There is nothing to show that this was what actually happened. Why didn’t you ever call anyone?”
“Because I was scared. Because I didn’t know better. I didn’t think anyone would believe me.” Just like he’s not believing me now.
“Even as an adult?” he asks. “If the situation was that bad, why didn’t you try to get custody of your siblings sooner?”
I try not to yell the words or walk across the room and shake some sense into him. I remind myself to stay calm.
“I was sixteen when she kicked me out. I did everything I could for them. I couldn’t afford to have them fully, but I was coming back for them.” I turn to look at them. “I was coming back.”
Imani nods and says, “I know.”
“Am I correct in concluding that you are blaming a child for not knowing how to handle a situation that was an adult’s responsibility?” Dana asks with an icy tone.
“I’m just trying to get to the truth,” Judge Martin says.
“I told you the truth.” It takes everything in me not to scream my frustration.
“You told me your version.”
The grip of Dana’s hand on mine is the only thing that keeps me in my chair.
My teeth are bared, and I can feel the burn of my anger at the back of my throat.
My version? As if another could exist. As if there is ever a justifiable reason for a child to see their life that way.
Not only does he not believe me, but he has the nerve to minimize the experience of four individual human beings. How could all of her kids be wrong?
“What about their version?” I ask, while pointing to my siblings.
The judge briefly looks at them before focusing back on our social worker, gesturing for Reyna to continue, making it clear she has no intentions of actually listening to our experience.
“Fostering is always meant to be temporary. Our goal is to reunite the kids with their families. Their mother is ready to take them back now,” Reyna says.
“But I’m their family, and I’m a better option,” I croak.
“You’re not their parent. You’re barely an adult yourself,” the judge says.
“But I’m adult enough to know what to do after experiencing abuse at the hands of my parent?” My tears practically turn to steam from how heated I am.
He just frowns and looks down at the documents again.
“While family matters are always tense, and situations can be perceived differently, there is one thing that remains a fact. Children belong with their parents. I will reinstate Deidre Jones’s rights and request that the children be released back to her care by the end of tomorrow. ” With that, he stands.
I don’t know who the wail comes from. I don’t know if it was all of us.
But the sounds don’t stop even as we all sit there stunned.
Eventually, someone comes and tries to usher us out of the room, but I can’t stand.
I can’t move at all. It takes Alex practically lifting me into his arms until we start to make our way out.
He places me on a bench, and I watch as he bends down and grabs Jamal and Gabby in his arms. Jamal is yelling, and Gabby is bawling. It takes Imani laying her head on my shoulder for me to come back alive.
“I’ll come get them tomorrow,” Reyna says, bending down towards me.
“Go to hell,” I say, while baring my teeth at her.
She steps back like she is surprised, like she can’t fathom the idea that I would hate her right now. She turns and leaves just before Jamal tries to break away to go after her. Alex holds him tight and doesn’t let go until I grab his hand.
“We have to go home,” I say to them.
They all flinch because we know that’s no longer their home.
“We’ll go home, and then I’ll call her. I’ll do our plan.”
That seems to calm them down enough that they can walk with me towards the exit. Alex follows us and doesn’t stop until we are at his car.
“I’m sure you want to be alone with them tonight. I’ll come tomorrow before they leave.”
He kisses my forehead before helping us into his car while telling the driver where to go. When I look back at him, he is heading towards the courthouse.
When we get to our place, I scream something primal and deep. It flows out of me with the tears.
“How can they do this? How can he make that decision without even talking to us?” Jamal asks.
I was prepared for our mother to deny her actions. That I expected. But for the judge to not even ask about their experience after discounting mine makes no damn sense.
I rip off my jacket and throw it. Sinking down on the couch, I gesture for them to join me. Enacting our plan, I try the number she called me from, and it just rings. When I get the voicemail, I curse. Trying again and again, after the fifth call, I leave a message.
“Hey Mum,” I say, trying to sound level. “I want to talk to you about me helping out financially. Give me a call.”
I know that should have her running to get back to me. If it doesn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’m pretty sure it won’t be legal. Until then, I just need to get it together and hope for the best.