How It Happened- Chapter 6
Carrick finally returns my call. It's only about 20 minutes later, but it was feeling like forever. I tell him all about Officer Williams, the toys, the photograph… Then he tells me Friend of the Court turned down his request.
"Oh no, Carry? Why?"
"Gracie, we knew it was a long shot, and really? It's probably better this way. Now there's no chance of anyone crying 'conflict of interest.' We can just file the adoption papers and start the process. You do realize, Honey, it will take a few months before he's even adoptable? There has to be time to try to locate any other living family…"
"I know, and that's really weighing on my mind too. It's going to be so hard for him to leave the hospital and have to go home to strangers."
"Hey… How about I come and bring lunch? What time is it usually served?"
"Served? Are you bringing lunch for me or for Christian?"
"Well I was thinking both of you. Thought we could all eat together."
"Carry, you can't bring lunch in here for Christian. All his food is specifically prepared. The nutritionist puts everything together, and in his case it all has to be correct proportion of nutrients. You saw him this morning. He's almost in a starvation mode. He could make himself sick if…"
"OK, OK. I won't bring a lunch for him. But can I bring one for you?"
"Yes. That will be fine. Lunch is usually served about 12:15 here. See you then?"
"I'll be there. Bye Sweetheart."
I hang up from the call just to hear the phone ring again. "Yes? What did you forget now, Carry?"
"Um, Dr. Trevelyan, please." Another unfamiliar voice pulls me back into my professional life.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. This is Dr. Trevelyan-Grey." It turns out to be the child psychologist. Thank god! "How quickly can we get you here to see Christian?"
"Actually, I'm planning on being there around three o'clock this afternoon. I've already been in contact with his legal representation so my visit and this conversation are already cleared. I was hoping I could get some background on his situation from you."
"Of course, but it's kind of intense. He's suffered significant neglect and physical abuse. Malnourishment, dehydration… There are both bruises and burns on his shoulders, back and chest. I'm sure that had to be accompanied by emotional abuse as well."
"It usually is, but what evidence have you witnessed?"
"He's very uneasy around men. He hid his face and rocked when he saw my husband kiss me, so I'm sure he's witnessed some horrible things. He does not like being touched. He screams moves away. However, he has unhealed sores from the burns, and some large bruising that is fairly new, so it could just be painful right now. He had a nightmare last night... pretty significant one…and he hasn't spoken since yesterday."
"Do you know the last words he did speak?"
"The police officer said he was calling for his mother. 'Mommy' over and over, then just stopped and hasn't spoken since. He comprehends quite well and does grunt and squeal. He points, nods and shakes his head… Doctor? I know he's going to need extensive help, but right now, he does not know or understand that his mother is dead. How do you explain that to someone so young?"
The psychologist asks me some more questions without really answering mine. I'm glad she's coming this afternoon. I think I'd be a wreck if I had to wait much longer than that. I'm filling in some information on a patient's chart when I feel an arm around my waist, and a kiss on my cheek.
"Oh! Carrick, you startled me. Is it 12:15 already?"
"Just about. I brought pasta. Hope that's OK. I hope it's not too different from what Christian's having. I figured spaghetti was a safe bet. I think the last three times your father was in here I saw him eating spaghetti." Just then I hear something I was not expecting to…
"Hi Mom!" I turn and see blond curls bouncing though the air as Elliot comes running down the hallway. "Dad let me ride in the el'vator by myself! It was so cool! And when I got on the wrong floor, I even figured it out all by myself!"
I'm more than a little surprised to see my son here in the middle of what should be a school day. I reach down and swoop him up in my arms. "How did you do that?" I ask trying to sound proud and excited while still confused.
"I asked somebody." He wiggles out of my arms and runs over to the food Carrick is holding. "Can we eat yet? I'm starving!" Hearing that word sets something off in me…
"You are not starving! Starving is something you have never known. You may be hungry right now, you may even be very hungry, but you are not starving." Elliot looks at me with a very surprised and even scared look on his face. I'm sure this is not first time he's ever said he was starving, but today… with Christian… It's just not sitting right with me to hear him use that word. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath, then move down to be more on Elliot's level. "I'm sorry Sweetheart. I didn't mean to get upset." I look over at Carrick. He's looking worried and concerned as well.
He doesn't take his eyes off me, but addresses Elliot. "I'm sure Mommy is just hungry and feeling a little grouchy. We should eat soon. How about you go sit in the waiting area El… We'll be right there." Elliot is still not sure what just happened, but nods and heads off to sit right where I met with Officer Williams not too long ago. "Grace…" I can't even look at him. "Grace. Hey. What was that all about? Christian? Gracie, if it's too hard for you to work while he's here, could you just take a few days off?"
"This is really getting to me Carry... and it's only the second day. It's so hard to be here, at the hospital with him, but not be able to just be in there with him. And I am hungry." I gesture to the waiting area. "And I love that boy, but why is Elliot here? Shouldn't he be at school right now?"
"Oh, well, it was one of those half days. I think they give them to the teachers so they can go get a drink. I don't know how anyone does that job! Have you ever spent time in that first grade classroom?" I have to smile at him, because, yes I have. God bless those people. "And I didn't tell Elliot anything other than we're having lunch with Mom and a patient who could use a friend today. That's all he knows."
Just then I see the cart with lunches in the hallway. Carry goes to get Elliot and I speak with the orderly. I want to take lunch in to Christian. I hope he doesn't have an episode like this morning. I have no idea how Elliot would respond.
Becca left around 11:30 so Christian is alone in the room. Through the window I see he's rolling cars around the floor near the bed, the IV making almost a tether. Oh! The toys. "Elliot? Daddy told you we were eating with a patient right?" He nods. I think he's not sure about me right now. "His name is Christian, and I want you to know I brought some of your toys for him to play with. Just a few. I wanted you to know before we go in. Please let him play with them today OK?"
"OK," he responds rather subdued. He must still be unsure about my earlier outburst. "As long as it's not my Godzilla or my Legos… It's not is it?" He's looking at me very suspiciously. Oh he's fine.
"No Sweetie," I chuckle. "Just some cars and books." I open the door holding the tray for Christian. He stops and turns to see us all coming through the door. His eyes widen at the sight of all three of us, but are quickly focused on the food. Again, we hear him sniffing the air. "It's lunchtime Little Man." I say cheerfully. "How about you climb back up there and I get this ready for you." I gesture to the bed and head to the other side to put the food down.
Christian first looks at Carrick nervously, who returns a gentle smile. Then he turns to Elliot. They just look at each other. The tension is thick for a minute, but soon Elliot's bubbly personality takes over. "I'm Elliot. Those are my toys but I'm sp'osed to let you play with them today. I prob'ly won't need them back tonight 'cause Mom said it wasn't my Godzilla or Legos."
"OK, lunch boys," I hear Carrick cut in. "Christian, you hop back in the bed. Dr. Grace has your food ready." Christian just continues to look up at him and stand still. I see Carrick give Christian a raised eyebrow look… It's the same look he gives Elliot when he's refusing to do something he was told.
Christian looks up at him with trepidation for a moment, but then climbs back up on the bed. I watch as Carrick continues to give that look and Christian doesn't take his eyes off him. A few silent seconds go by, but then Christian scoots back so he's sitting up. I wheel the table into place but leave the cover over the food. I want us to all have our food and eat together. I can see Christian wants to take it off but is acting afraid to touch it. He's still sniffing, but at least he's not knocking the tray over, grabbing the food and stuffing it in his mouth like earlier. He's looking at the tray, then back to Carrick. My husband says nothing and I have no idea what's going on between them… But I feel it's best to stay out of it right now.
"Elliot, you can sit over here with me in the chair," I call to my son.
"How come I can't climb on the bed too?" He gives me a whiny pout.
"Elliot. Over here with me. Now." Elliot walks around the bed toward me. I'm still watching whatever is going on between Carrick and Christian. This unvoiced showdown between them is interesting but surprising, and I don't mind saying a little unsettling.
Finally, Carrick sits on the bed. He opens the bag and hands out the lunches to Elliot and myself. "OK. We've got some linguine with clam sauce for myself and Dr. Grace… and spaghetti with mini meatballs for Elliot… And Christian has," He takes the lid off and I almost laugh out loud. Spaghetti. He looks over at me with that 'Told ya' look on his face. But I'm glad my husband was so thoughtful.
Elliot reaches for a meatball with his fingers. "Table manners, Elliot," I remind him.
"How come I gotta' use table manners if I don't even gotta table?" He's frustrated, but picks up his fork to stab a meatball instead.
I see Christian reach his hand out toward the pasta, then hear Carrick clear his throat to get his attention. Again, he gives the raised eyebrow look. Christian stops in midair. Carrick nods toward the flatware and Christian redirects his hand to slowly reach for the fork. I'm glad to see he is no longer diving for his food, but he is a little perplexed with using the fork. He's trying to stab the pile of noodles, but is only managing a few actually into this mouth. He tries again and again.
Elliot has stopped eating and is watching Christian with a look of questioned surprise on his face. "How come you don't know the spinny thing with your fork? Sp'getti is easier if you spin it. Like this." He proceeds to demonstrate to Christian how to spin a fork to best fill it with the stringy pasta. Bless my son's little curly head! I realize again, that there is probably so much Christian has never experienced- things we just don't even think about- like spinning a fork in spaghetti. I catch Christian's glance and show him how I spin it in the linguine, then put it in my mouth. He looks at Carrick and he demonstrates the same.
We see him try the 'spinny thing' with his fork. It's not easy for him, but he tries over and over. I commend him for sticking with it. I know this is something very new to him. While he does manage to get a few more noodles into his mouth, it's not very many, really. It's not doing much to counteract the malnourishment, it's just making a mess. He looks over at us a few times, but we focus on eating our own lunches … Well, Carrick and I do. Elliot is just enamored with Christian's inability to simply eat spaghetti.
Christian looks back at Elliot with a mixture of uneasiness and frustration. I whisper in his ear, "Elliot, please eat your lunch and let Christian eat his without your staring. It may be making him uncomfortable."
"But Mom, why isn't he…" Elliot starts, but I give him the raised eyebrow look now. I know he's not really sure what is going on. But he knows that look well enough not to talk back, and he finally does get back to his own lunch. Thankfully, we are all eating and Carrick starts a conversation with Elliot about school.
We get more information than we really need about who put what coloring implement into which facial orifice. I let Carrick know the psychologist is coming later without really saying enough to alert either of the boys. Our conversations continue with ease, just like at home. We try to include Christian by asking questions about playing with Becca and the toys. We get stares, but no response. We try to continue an atmosphere of family, by talking with Elliot as we normally would. During the conversation, we hear a few muffled grunts that sound frustrated and worried. But then, we all hear a loud, high-pitched noise and look up to see Christian angry, and the fork across the room.
Christian begins grabbing handfuls of noodles and shoving them into his mouth. I'm stunned and unable to say anything. I'm sure Carrick is feeling the same. It's the breakfast fiasco all over again. Pasta everywhere, sauce all over his face, in his hair... Unsurprisingly, Elliot has to chime in on this behavior he knows would never be tolerated at our dinner table. "Hey! How come I gotta' use manners and he can eat with his fingers!?"
"Grace?..." I hear Carrick's tone and know I need to give him a minute alone to deal with this.
"Elliot! We forgot to wash our hands! Let's go wash our hands. Come on. Come with me…" I put down our food, take his hand and lead him toward the door.
"Mom! There's a sink right in the bathroom… Can't we just wash our hands in there?" I continue to drag my son out of the room and to another washroom. I'm nervous while I realize I have no idea what Carry is doing with Christian. I have no idea how much time he'll need. I hope he doesn't scare him… But I remember this morning, the food all cleaned up and a fork in Christian's hand. If he did it before, I'm hoping he can do it again.
I lift Elliot to wash his hands. He can tell I'm uneasy and anxious. He looks at me in the mirror. "Hey Mom? You're a good doctor. Can you doctor things like bad days? 'Cause I think that kid is having one. He could use some help." Out of the mouths of babes.