A SHATTERING EXPERIENCE, Part II

  

"Did you see any bruises or welts?  Any suspicious marks?" said the lady at the Abuse Hotline.

"No, but that doesn't mean there weren't any," I said, anxious for her to see these children were in trouble.  "Maybe there were bruises under their clothes."

"Did the children themselves report any abuse?"

"No, but the mother was there the whole time and she's scary.  When someone talks to them alone...  If you investigate....  And they're certainly neglected."

"What makes you say that?  Are they denied food or medical care?"

"I don't know--maybe.  The mother works all day and goes out drinking almost every night.  The little girl has to fix dinner and she's expected to clean the house.  And she has to babysit the little brother all the time and...."

"How old is the sister?" she asked.

"Twelve, almost thirteen, but...."

"Well, the girl is old enough to babysit.  I'm not sure why you're calling."

"She's mean to them.  She calls them names.  She swears at them.  She has no empathy."

"Well, she's not Mother of the Year, but if we took kids away from every bad mother out there, we wouldn't have anywhere to put them.  We don't have enough foster parents as it is.  And if we show up to investigate, she's going to know you reported it and she'll be really mad.  Is that what you want?  Look, you call here a lot; I recognize your name."  She paused and her voice became gentle.  "We can't save them all.  You know that."

"Yes, I know that."  I didn't know what else to say.  "Thank you.  I....I'll call again if I learn something more definitive.  Some kind of proof."  I hung up.

The family came two more times.  I tried everything I could think of to engage Mom, but she resisted all my efforts.  She refused parenting classes.  She had no interest in spending more time with her kids.  I had never met anyone so devoid of maternal feeling.  The little boy played happily with all the toys in my office and the girl sat quietly, staring at me and waiting to see what I might do.  I felt helpless.  Useless.

"You know, your children are so bright and sweet and beautiful and I--"

"Oh, yeah, they're good looking all right," she said bitterly.  "They look like their SOB daddy.  He's an asshole.  Look, you're supposed to be helping me and you haven't done a damn thing that does me any good.  These kids are always wanting something from me.  They're supposed to be helping me, but they're worthless.  I wish I never had them."

I felt like she had punched me in the stomach.  The little girl closed her eyes.  Her brother kept on playing, oblivious or maybe he was just used to it.

Several months later I was reading the paper and drinking my morning coffee when  I saw an article about a traffic accident and I recognized the names immediately.  The sister and her little brother were standing on the median of the busy highway, holding hands and waiting to finish crossing.  According to eyewitnesses the children suddenly stepped into oncoming traffic.  The car that hit and killed them had no time to stop.  No one was charged.