“What?” Gia flinches, as if she’s been scalded. “No.”
“We can do it here or I can get us an appointment at the local trauma center. But I need to see the bruises.” Deborah meets Marin’s eyes; a silent message passes between the two.
“She can’t do this, Mom. Right?”
“I’m afraid she can, Beti,” Marin says. “Let her see the bruises. You don’t want to go to a hospital, do you?”
As a child, Gia used to love the cartoons with a cat chasing a mouse but always failing to catch it. It was hilarious to her that a measly rodent could so easily outsmart a creature known for its conniving ability. Now, Gia seems oblivious to her role in the game. Her face shows her worry that she is running out of options; the match is over. She slowly pulls off her T-shirt, revealing a plain white bra. There are two fresh bruises, Marin notes.
Her face hard, Marin watches wordlessly as Deborah takes out a small camera and begins taking pictures of the discolorations. “For the file,” Deborah explains, noting the size and shape of each one. There are seven in all. Fresh ones mixed with those almost healed. A mural of pain. Finished, she instructs Gia to put her shirt back on. “Can I see your legs, please?” Gia lowers her head as she pulls up her skirt. Black and purple line her upper thighs. From kicks, Marin knows, her gut churning. When you are lying on the ground and they can’t pummel their fist into your stomach, they resort to kicking, as if breaking an animal. Two more pictures, a few more notes, before Deborah is finished.
“What now?” Marin demands, unable to face her daughter.
“I create a file. Do some investigation.” Facing Gia, she asks, “Is there anything you want to tell me? Now is the time.”
“No.” Gia’s face crumbles. “Please, can’t you just let it go? I’m OK.” To Marin she pleads, “Mom, please.”
“It’s not your mom’s decision. No one is allowed to beat you. It’s against the law.” Deborah stands, her job finished, for now. “I’ll be in touch.”
“What happens?” Gia asks, her voice small. “To the person that did this?”
“That depends,” Deborah replies. “The final decision is up to the courts.”
Marin makes sure Gia spends the rest of the weekend in the house. No hanging out with friends or leaving the house to see Adam. She confiscates Gia’s phone under the pretense that she wants to upgrade it. She’ll have it back in a few days, she assures her daughter. The only landline in the house is in Marin’s office, used mainly for the fax. Left without a means to contact Adam, Gia sulks in the house.
“There were fresh bruises?” Raj demands, pacing back and forth in Marin’s office. Marin has updated him on the visit, leaving out her part in the situation. “What now?”
“We wait. Gia still won’t give names, so I assume there will be an investigation.”
“My god.” Raj drops into the sofa, his head in his hands. “How did this happen?”
“Does it matter?” Marin asks, dismissing the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. “It’s happened and it needs to be fixed.”
Something in her voice causes Raj to look up. “What are you saying, Marin?”
Marin schools her features. “Only that we have to support Gia and help her through this.”
“I was thinking maybe we should pull her out of the school. Surround her with a new group of friends.”
“No.” Marin’s response is visceral, straight from her gut. She will not allow Gia’s future to be compromised. “We deal with this and move on. The best thing for her is consistency. To be surrounded by what’s familiar. Putting her in a new school would hurt more than help.”
Raj watches his wife carefully before responding. “I’ll agree with your decision for now. But the matter is not closed.”
Soon enough it will be, Marin thinks. Soon enough.