CHAPTER 18

I hold the gnashing of teeth of the damned to be … despair, when men see themselves abandoned by God.

Martin Luther

H  is mother confronted him at the door. You’d think she couldn’t always manage to be right there at the door when he came in, but she always was. Behind her at the end of the hall his sister huddled in her wheelchair, her eyes closed.

His mother began complaining at once. “Sonny, you’ve got to take over. I’ve got to get out of here, just for an hour.”

He brushed past her, heading for the stairs. “I can’t,” he said coldly, “I’m going out again.”

“Can’t it wait? I’ve got to get out, Sonny, just for a little while. Helen, she’s driving me nuts.”

“No, I tell you. I’ve got to meet someone.”

“Well, my God, when can I get out of here? You never think of me, trapped in here all day and all night with these two!”

He ran up the stairs impatiently, then leaned over the railing and spoke to Helen, who was looking up at him with glowing eyes. “How is she?”

“Better,” murmured Helen.

“Better!” broke in his mother angrily. “I don’t know if you can call it better, when all she does is whine about her kid.”

“Well, for Christ’s sake, why don’t you call that woman? Try again.”

“You try” shouted his mother. “Why is everything always left to me?”

He slammed his bedroom door.

No sooner did Mrs. Barker walk into her office than the phone rang.

She said, “Damn,” and dropped into the chair at her desk. “Department of Social Services, Mrs. Barker speaking,” she said wearily, unbuttoning her coat.

“Oh, Mrs. Barker, my name is Pettigrew, Mrs. Sharon Pettigrew.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pettigrew?”

“I’m a volunteer at the—you know—the Home for Little Wanderers. We need to find one of the kiddos transferred to your department.”

“Which kiddo?” said Mrs. Barker warily.

“Its name is—” There was a pause, as if Mrs. Pettigrew were consulting a list. “Hall, Charles Hall.”

“Oh, no, not Charley Hall, not again! Well, what is it? What do you want him for?”

“His cousin wants to see him, with an eye to possible adoption. His first cousin, just returned from—ah—abroad.”

“Oh, is that so? Just a minute.” Mrs. Barker put down the phone, pulled Charley’s file out of a drawer, and riffled through it. “I’m sorry,” she said triumphantly, picking up the phone again. “That child has no living relatives but a couple of great-aunts, and they are both childless. Get lost, sister.”