Ruined. The social worker said. Wielded the word ‘gainst me like a weapon. From her point of view, I’d ruined Jackie, or I’d let her be ruined. Either way, it was my fault.

Heziah sighed as another bottle clinked in the trash can. Vodka, gin, tequila—some even mixed with juice or fruit punch. All perfectly sized to fit in her backpack.

“I was afraid of this. Belinda? You see this? This makes…” He paused to count. “Five bottles.”

I nodded.

“We can’t ignore this. We gotta do something.”

I nodded again. I’d been holding my breath, waiting to find a box of condoms, thinking that was as bad as it could get.

“It’s them foster people. They got her drinking.”

Heziah ain’t believe me. He still lived in a world where folks was basically good. He moved on to her closet, sticking his head in the darkness among her clothes. “Why would they do that, Belinda?”

“To make it easier to…umm…it ain’t her fault.”

“Okay, whose fault is it?”

He emerged from the closet holding a travel mug. Popped the top and took a sniff. “Let’s go.”

We’d kicked the girls outta their rooms and told ‘em to wait downstairs. They set about occupying themselves for the last twenty minutes.

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to confront her and make sure she understands this is unacceptable. I don’t know if they have rehab places for girls her age, but I’ll look into it.”

“Rehab?”

Heziah responded with a look of pure impatience.

“I mean…maybe we could talk to her first. I don’t wanna send her away.”

“We may not have a choice. She needs help.”

“I’ll help her. I’m her mama. She had a tough go of it, and she needs some time to adjust. I’ll talk to her, and everything’ll be okay. I promise.”

Was a silly thing to promise. I ain’t have no control over what Jackie did. Truth be told, I was all talked out.

The scene downstairs ached of girlhood innocence. So much so that I thought maybe Heziah might rethink what he said. Mya sat in the window seat, like always, her nose between the pages of somebody’s life story. Nat and the twins were on the floor, playing a board game. Jackie mighta been playing with ‘em, but she was concentrating more so on painting Jenna’s toes a bright pink. They were good girls. I silently pleaded with Heziah to remember that.

“Okay, everyone, your mama and I need to talk to Jackie.”

“What I do now?”

“Y’all go on back upstairs.”

A hearty sigh came from the window seat, and a thud as the book closed. “You told us to come down here. Now we gotta go back upstairs? Make up your mind.”

“Mya.”

“What?” She spat, not the least bit shamed by my reprimand.

She and Jackie must’ve gotten together and decided they was both gonna do their parts to drive us mad.

“Do as we say.” Heziah’s voice took on the tone he usually reserved for the twins. Full of what my daddy called authority. Ricky’d used it all the time. With me and with them, but Heziah wasn’t Ricky.

Mya walked right up to us, failing to tame the lion inside her that was dying for a fight.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Heziah’s voice didn’t waver an inch.

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “Do you?”

“Mya!”

Everyone stopped. The game stopped being put away. The nail polish wand paused in midair. I’d only ever been embarrassed by my kids one other time.

“You apologize to Heziah right now.”

“Sorry,” she said, passing us on her way to the stairs.

Her sisters were quick to follow after that. They didn’t even wanna look like they were being smart.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her,” I heard myself whisper.

He gritted his teeth and got on with it. The talk. He motioned for Jackie to get up from the floor and sit next to him on the couch. I sat in one of the armchairs off to the side, wondering when Heziah had time to think up what he was saying. I knew more about what Jackie was up to, and I couldn’t have put things as clearly as he did. Suppose I never was good at explaining things. Part of me felt like it would make it worse to hear the words aloud. So, I kept quiet to hide from all the pain they would cause.

“You wanna send me away.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I want you to go somewhere where people can help you deal with this—”

“I-I’ll stop. I won’t do it no more. Okay?”

I nodded, smiling at her from where I sat, but Heziah kept concentrating on the coffee table. Magazines lay lazily across it, and the bottle of neon pink nail polish sat on the corner.

“Tell me the last time you drank.” He uttered the words without lifting his gaze.

Jackie stuttered through her lie then smiled at him sheepishly. She was sure she could stop at any time.

“I believe her. Heziah? You hear me? This a family matter. We don’t need no strangers butting in.”

 “Belinda—”

“She said she gone stop. She get it now.”

Jackie nodded enthusiastically, right on cue. “And I won’t see Darrel any more. I promise. For real this time. I gotta new boyfriend now anyway.”

Shock, followed by confusion, and finally disgust changed Heziah’s features. It all came clear to him, and he aged a decade right on the spot. “Did you know about this?” he asked me.

Jackie started to say something, but her mouth fell open as she realized I hadn’t told him what I knew. Her eyes grew large with panic. Filled up with blame. She blamed herself for all of it.

“I…I was going to tell you,” I said carefully. “I was.”

“I’m calling the police.”

“No!” Jackie leapt to her feet, following him to the phone in the kitchen. “Don’t! Please!”

Heziah stopped with his hand on the receiver. “Did you have sex with this man?”

“No…”

“Did he force you?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you.” He lifted the handset to his ear and pressed down on the number nine.

“Mama! Do something! Stop him! Please.”