So I scream, “Then why won’t you let me go get my Baby Doll?”
He shakes his head and keeps talking. He talks about unsanitary conditions and abuse and the cat. Snowball. He is wrong about what happened to it but I am so upset that all I can do now is say the word wrong, wrong, wrong over and over in my brain and put my hands over my ears because he doesn’t understand. He knows only approximately what happened.
And I know exactly.
13
EXACTLY 10:05 IN THE MORNING,
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15TH
I am in Patrice’s office. I didn’t go to school. Patrice’s office has three soft chairs in it. One has flowers all over it. She has a skinny black-and-white cat named Agamemnon who likes to make bread on your lap. Making bread is an expression because Agamemnon doesn’t know how to bake. It doesn’t hurt when Agamemnon makes bread because his claws were removed when he was little. He doesn’t remember the operation, Patrice says. But right now I don’t see Agamemnon. I look for him every time I come here because I really like cats. I want to get a cat but my Forever Parents won’t let me. They say it isn’t appropriate. Not appropriate means that something doesn’t belong. Even though I think it really does. Especially after Snowball.
Patrice is in the kitchen. “Ginny, do you want to help me put together a snack?” she says. I stop looking for Agamemnon and go to help her. Patrice says that food and drinks help people relax. Today’s snack is Hershey’s Kisses and milk. I pour a whole bag of them into a bowl and bring it out into the room with the chairs. Then I sit down and start eating.
“So what’s all this drama I’m hearing about?” says Patrice.
I don’t know what drama is so I say, “I don’t understand the question.” Patrice taught me that. I’m supposed to say I don’t understand when there’s something I want to know or when I don’t understand. Patrice says asking for help is part of self-advocating.
“Drama means a lot of feelings and loud actions,” says Patrice. “When someone says there was some drama, it means there were some crazy things going on.”
“I didn’t see any crazy things,” I say and put another Hershey’s Kiss in my mouth. And then I look up because it’s a rule that You should make eye contact when you talk with someone.
“I’m sorry,” says Patrice. “I shouldn’t put it that way. It’s not drama at all, really. It’s just that a lot is going on all at once. Can you tell me about what happened yesterday with Gloria? Your parents tell me she came to school.”
I crinkle the silver wrapper between my fingers into a ball. “That’s right,” I say. “Gloria came to my school. I saw her in the parking lot yesterday when I got off the bus. She had the Green Car.”
“When you first saw her, what did you think?”
“I wasn’t sure if it was her.”
“Why weren’t you sure?”
“Because she had a different head.”
“If you had been sure it was her, what would you have done differently?”
I don’t answer because I don’t want Patrice to know what I would have done. I close my mouth tight and start counting.
Then Patrice says, “No one knows how she managed to find where you live, but she wasn’t supposed to come see you. It’s not allowed, Ginny. It’s just not safe. She’s still completely impulsive. She hasn’t changed at all. Well, maybe I shouldn’t go that far, but she still flies off the handle.”
“Did she peel out?” I ask. Because Gloria gets really, really mad when someone says she isn’t allowed to do something.
“I’m not sure,” says Patrice.
“Did she make quite a scene?”
“From what I was told, yes, she did. She tried to get into the building. The doors were locked and she wouldn’t go away. She asked if she could see you, but since no one at school knew who she was, they called the police. Then she used a rock to try to break through the door. The police walked her back to her car, and that’s when you climbed up to the window.”
I sit and I think. I am glad Patrice is telling me what happened. Patrice always tells me the truth. She calls it telling it straight because a lot of people keep things secret from me.
“Ginny?” says Patrice.
“What?”
I am picking at my fingers again.
“It’s extremely important that you never go with Gloria. If you do, you could get hurt. Your Forever Parents already have a restraining order against her so she can’t come to the Blue House, and now they’re going to have one that says she can’t come to school. Do you know what a restraining order is?”
I shake my head no.
“It’s like a rule, only bigger. It’s like a law. A law for one person. I suppose we could say that it’s against the law for Gloria to see you now. It’s just not safe. I really don’t understand why you want to go back to see her again. It bothers your Forever Parents, too. You almost died when you were there. Can you help us understand?”
“I want to see if my Baby Doll is okay,” I say.
“Oh my goodness, Ginny, I know you’ve been through a lot—more than anyone should ever have to go through—but we’ve been over this so many times!” says Patrice. “Remember, we decided that the reason you want to take care of a Baby Doll is because you were like a little baby when you were in the apartment. And we don’t want to see what happened to the plastic electronic baby doll happen to you again. Do you see what I’m saying? Gloria hurt you pretty badly, Ginny. Do you remember what you looked like when the police took you out of the apartment? Do you remember how thin you were? And all the injuries? You were lucky to be alive. I know she’s your Birth Mom, but Gloria just isn’t capable of taking care of young children.”
She keeps talking and asking me questions about all the bad things Gloria did and every time I tell her yes, I know, I get it, Gloria isn’t a safe person which is why I need to go back to get my Baby Doll. But Patrice just keeps shaking her head and saying no, Ginny, I’m sorry, your Baby Doll isn’t a real baby, I checked the records.
So finally I make my hands into tight, tight balls and squeeze my eyes shut and yell, “It’s not in the records. It’s in the suitcase.”
She stops. “Ginny, I know you think that no one listens to you, but we checked the suitcase. The police went back to look after they brought you to the hospital. There was nothing inside.”
“There was nothing inside?” I say.
Patrice shakes her head. “Nothing. There was a suitcase under the bed, but it was empty. And the social workers visited you quite a few times before you were taken out of the apartment. Don’t you think they would have known if there was a baby?”
I blink. If the suitcase was empty then I told Gloria to look in the wrong place when I wrote to her on September 13th. But I don’t know where the right place is. I don’t know where to tell her to find my Baby Doll.
“Ginny?”
Someone must have taken it out of the suitcase after the police took me out of the apartment. But who?