CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Eve
August 18, 2019
Zara and Chad picked the kids up this morning from their first “sleepover” here. I was so tired, but I couldn’t tell my sister. I didn’t want her to know that the kids cried at bedtime, and Charlotte had nightmares all night. Once, she was screaming about Joey, and the fears it awoke in me sent me running to the bathroom, where I was sick. Sometimes recovery looks so pretty, so peaceful and hopeful. But underneath, there are scars on all of us, deep ones that reach to our cores.
The other thing I didn’t want to tell my sister was how much I wanted to use last night. It felt like I needed the hit just to keep breathing. I called my sponsor around the time the sun was coming up. Five minutes into our talk, Sammy woke up.
I’ll be at the eleven o’clock NA meeting. I may need to stay for the one o’clock too. How am I going to do this and care for my children? How do I ask for help without being needy?
“HELLO, ZARA. THIS IS KELLY. I wanted to check in with you about the kids’ overnight stay with Eve.”
Zara shifted the phone to her other ear and turned on the hose for the loofah plants. Across the yard, Charlotte pushed Sammy gently in the safety swing. “I think it went well. The kids regressed a bit when they came home, but I imagine that’s normal. Eve seemed exhausted.”
“But nothing that would cause you to have concerns about the children’s safety.” The sound of papers shuffling was loud enough to hear through the line.
“No. Everything looked safe.” Zara let her fingers stroke the length of a loofah pod. They grew down from the hog panel, forming a dome. Soon, it would be time to harvest. She’d need to see if she could have a day with Charlotte then. They could pick the plants together and clean out the seeds.
“Well, then. I’m setting the reunification date for August 25. How does that sound?”
Zara’s face tingled. She sat down on the grass, water seeping into the side of her jeans. “It sounds soon.” She mentally counted out the six days until Charlotte and Sammy would be moving. “We don’t have the test results yet.”
“That’s okay. I’ll let the doctor know next week that the children have been reunified and that they should send all information directly to Eve.”
The way Kelly spoke, it was like this came down to logistics rather than real people and real feelings. “Okay. Well, thanks.”
“And, Zara, you’ve done a great job. Thank you.”
The words that she’d once sought seemed empty now. “Thank you.”
“Please touch base with me after the drop-off. I’ll be over to Eve’s within twenty-four hours to do my first evaluation.”
That was it. They exchanged good-byes, but nothing really mattered except Charlotte and Sammy.
Eve
August 22, 2019
My kids will be back in three days. This time, they’re staying. I’ve arranged to take three days off work. That should help them get settled. Maybe I should have taken a week, but I need the money, and my job gives me stability. I’m not sure I could do this if I didn’t have my shifts to keep me focused.
The state is helping me pay for their day care. I’m hoping, eventually, once the kids and I have settled in, that Zara might be willing to keep the kids one day a week. It’s better for them to be with family.
When I think about what’s in my kids’ best interests, I’m overwhelmed with guilt for letting so many things slip by before. My little girl has fears and worries no child should even understand. And Sammy, who knows what his future holds?
My sponsor says I need to be honest in my journal. The words are here to help me heal.
This is the truth:
I’m scared.
I feel the need to have an escape plan, just in case I can’t handle all of this.
Heroin is still screaming at me—not all the time anymore, but it cries out when I’m not on guard.
Each day, I’ve made the choice to stay clean and sober.
Today, I’m still choosing sobriety.
I have people who want to help me.
Joey is still out there.
ZARA STOOD IN THE BEDROOM DOORWAY, watching Charlotte and Sammy sleep in the dim light from the west window. She closed her eyes and let the sounds of their breathing enter her heart. She wanted to remember this, every little thing, because tonight was the last night they’d live here, under her roof, but they would forever be her first children. No matter what came, that wouldn’t change.
Her cell phone buzzed. “Hello.”
“This is Dr. Kiddle. I’ve been catching up on some paper work this weekend and discovered the test results for Samuel haven’t been given to you. I sent a copy to the caseworker. Did she speak with you?”
“No.” Zara walked into her room and sank onto the bed. “Not about that.”
“I really am sorry. This was my responsibility.”
Blood pounded to the point of minimizing her hearing. She weighed out what to say next but stuck with nothing.
“Samuel’s urine test was positive for sugar, so we went ahead with the blood test.”
Zara clenched her free hand into a fist. He was taking forever to say the words she knew were coming.
“What we didn’t see in the blood was an absence of or even a lower level of the enzyme we would expect in a child with Hunter. I’m a bit concerned about his kidneys, but I think another urine test in a few months will be sufficient. It’s not uncommon to have a kidney that spills sugars. But as far as Hunter syndrome is concerned, I think he’s cleared.”
Her body shot up so fast, she nearly dropped the phone. “No Hunter?”
“Correct.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad we got some good news here.”
“Thank you for calling. This is wonderful!”
When she’d finished the call, Zara jogged down the stairs and threw herself into Chad’s arms. “No Hunter.”
“What? How do you know?”
“The doctor just called.”
His grin said more than words could. “Should you call Eve and let her know?”
“Let’s surprise her tomorrow. I want to see her face when I tell her Sammy is going to live a long and healthy life.”
EVE TOSSED THE THIN BLANKET to the floor. The clock read one o’clock, and up to this point, she’d probably managed twenty minutes of sleep. The only drawback to her little apartment was the heat. The day before had been hotter than any day since she’d moved in, yet Eve kept the windows closed and locked.
She lifted up on one elbow and took a drink from the bottle on the floor near her bed. When she set it back down, her finger grazed over something. She pressed at it.
A shoe. Not hers. Not empty.