A Child is Torn: Innocence Lost (11 page)

“Damn it Moran! What the hell did you eat?” She hit the window button on the door and took a deep breath of fresh air.

“I had to do that so bad. We were talking to those people and I was hurting so bad—I wanted to let one out like crazy.”

“So why the hell did you wait until we were in the car?”

“Because,” he told her, a stupid smirk on his face. “I knew it was going to be one I would be proud of and I wanted a witness.”

“Grow up.” She tried, but she couldn’t help chuckling along. The rain was coming down harder now, and she had no choice but to close the window.

“Damn, poor Connie. How the hell does she stand you?”

“My wife adores me Jean, just ask her.”

“That my dear, Moran, is life’s greatest mystery.”

Once again she leaned back and closed her eyes. This time she managed to catch forty winks before they pulled up to the station.

“Wake up honey, we’re home, he said as he got out of the car and walked into the building. She could swear he had a bit of a skip in his step.

Chapter Six

Hope

Two o’clock Sunday came, and Eddie Ginns and his parents sat nervously in the visitor’s waiting room. I wanted to talk to them before Brad was brought down.

“Mr. Ginns, Mrs. Ginns.” I extended my hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Thank you,” responded Mrs. Ginns. Her eyes were still puffy and bloodshot from crying.

“Dr. Rubin, the coroner has released my sister and brother-in-law and the funeral is planned for tomorrow morning,” said Eddie. “We’d like Brad to be there.”

“Please sit down. I know how hard this is for all of you, and I wish I could tell you that it would be possible, but it isn’t.”

Eddie started to object.

“Please,” I continued. First of all, Brad has been remanded here by the courts. Legally he’s not allowed to go anywhere until he finishes the court-ordered observation. Once that’s completed and my reports are turned in, the judge will make a decision on Brad’s future.”

I could see Mrs. Ginns’s face fall. Her body seemed to shrink and her shoulders fell. I knew her heart was breaking. “I’m sorry,” I said. I reached out to hold her free hand; the other one was in her husband’s, his right hand gently folded over hers, rubbing it.

Eddie spoke up again. “Are you saying, not only can Brad not go to his parents’ funeral, but he may not be allowed to come home with us at all?” I could tell he was fighting hard to hide his anger.

“Look, Mr. Ginns. Lets’ take it one step at a time. Let’s get over the first hurdle. Brad hasn’t really told us much more than what he told us in the hospital. Lets’ see how he reacts to your visit today. I know you’re grieving and this is a horrible situation, but right now Brad is very fragile. I don’t know how much he can handle. We don’t know what he’s thinking or what caused this. I know you’re frustrated, but we have to do what’s right for Brad.”

He just sat back, seemingly not knowing how to reply.

I leaned over to my intercom. “Cindy, can you bring Brad in please?”

The door opened and Cindy, one of our therapists, walked in with Brad in tow. He was looking down at his feet and didn’t look up until the door closed behind him. I heard his grandmother gasp. Suddenly Brad looked up then took a few running steps and collapsed onto her. He grabbed her around her hips and buried his face in her abdomen. He began to weep loudly, and she held onto his blond head and wrapped her arms tightly around his tiny body, crying with him.

Mr. Ginns and Eddie stood back and watched in silence. Several moments passed before Mrs. Ginns could calm Brad down. He finally looked up. Seeing his grandfather he held up his arms, silently requesting his Papa to lift him up. Even though it was a struggle, he raised the boy up, still holding his cane, and hugged him tightly. He pushed him away for a second, looked him straight in the eyes, and then again held him against his chest, softly saying his name over and over again.

A few minutes passed, and calmness enveloped the room. Tears were still falling, including one or two of mine, but Brad had stopped sobbing and his grandfather was able to put him down. He carefully sat down and put Brad on his lap.

“Brad,” I sat down across from them. “I see you’re pretty happy to see your Nana and Papa, and Uncle Eddie.”

He nodded.

“They look pretty happy to see you too.”

“Can I go home now?” He turned away from me and faced his uncle.

“Brad, look at me.” I turned him around to face me again. “Your grandparents and uncle came for a visit. You can’t go home. Do you know why?”

He looked away from me again, and took his grandmother’s hand.

“Nana, I’m sorry.”

She brought her other hand up in a futile attempt to stop the sound that was seeping from her throat.

“It’s okay, baby. Oh Brad, honey, tell Nana what happened.”

Getting up from his grandfather’s lap, Brad looked around the room and shook his head. His body language began to change. His arms fell to his sides, his fists got tight, and his knuckles whitened. His jaw seemed to lock and he backed up until he stood stiff against the wall.

His grandmother tried again. “Brad, can you tell me what happened?”

He stared straight ahead, no longer acknowledging anyone in the room. I looked up at Cindy who was still observing on the far side of the room.

“Cindy, can you bring Brad back to his room?”

She nodded and held out her hand for him. Without resistance, he took her hand and let her lead him out of the room.

I shut the door behind them.

“I’m sorry.” I knew they were confused and disappointed.

“What’s wrong with him?” Mrs. Ginns cried. “What’s happening to that poor, sweet boy?”

“I’m not sure, Mrs. Ginns. We’ve run a battery of tests and we just don’t have any answers yet. It’s as much of a mystery to me as it is to you.”

I sat down on my desk, my legs crossed. “You have never seen him like this? Is this behavior and demeanor new to you?”

“He’s like another child altogether,” said Mr. Ginns. He shook his head as he spoke and looked at his son.

“Is there a possibility, Dr. Rubin, that my parents have lost not only my sister, but their grandchild as well?” asked Eddie.

“I don’t know. I haven’t had enough time to make a proper diagnosis. I ordered an MRI of his brain, and a complete blood workup. It’s quite possible that whatever is going on is physiological and can be treated and even cured. If it’s a chemical imbalance, and we can find the proper medication, we may be able to get him to a point where we can deal with the psychological issues. Even if what happened is caused by a medical condition, he may be psychologically damaged because of what’s happened. Am I making any sense to you? I know it’s overwhelming.”

“This is just so insane. He was a normal ten year old last week. My sister was alive last week! This can’t be happening.” Mr. Ginns raked his hand through his hair.

“I know, Mr. Ginns. I’m sorry. I’ll do everything I can to help your family heal. If there is anything I can do…I can refer you to a grief counselor, if you’d like.”

“I would like, doctor, for my sister to be here. I would like this week to have been nothing more than a nightmare. That’s what I would like Doctor Rubin!”

He glanced at his parents. He didn’t have to say a word. They were ready to leave as well.

“Make him better, please,” Brad’s grandmother pleaded softly. “Give me back my grandson. Please.”

“I will try Mrs. Ginns. I promise you, I will try.”

I shut the door behind them. Walking back to my desk, I put my head in my hands. I was lost. For the first time in my career I had no idea what to do. I was hoping the blood tests would show some sort of physiological disorder. It made no more sense to me than it did to his family. Here was a perfectly normal child one day, and a violent, psychotic child the next. It sickened me that I was secretly hoping the child had a brain tumor. At least then I would have an answer. I wanted to give his family an answer.

Exhausted, drained, and starting to feel a migraine coming on, I knew I was going to do the unthinkable—I wasn’t going to my mother’s birthday dinner. I knew I would be in big trouble and that I’d regret it, but there was no way I was in the mood to deal with my mother’s crap.

Knowing she was usually at her condo’s aerobics class at this time on Sundays, I left her a message on her answering machine, begging off tonight’s celebration and blaming the migraine. I promised I would make it up to her, saying that I was going home to bed and that I would call her in the morning. I then left a message on my brother’s voice mail telling him the same. I knew when he heard my message the first word out of his mouth would be “coward.”

“Oh well,” I said to myself. “You got to do, what you got to do.”

October 2011

Hope

After the incident with Jeffrey and the police left and the place had settled down, I looked in on Brad who was still sleeping. I noticed someone had placed Jack the monkey on Brad’s bed. Reaching out, he clutched it and held it against his chest with his fingers clenched tightly around its furry waist. He looked so sweet lying there; his bare chest rising and falling with each breath he took. His skin had started to get back some color and his cheeks had a tint of pink.

Cindy sat across from his bed, thoroughly involved in a novel. She looked up when she heard me enter the room.

“How’s he doing? Has he woken up at all?” I asked, keeping my voice not much louder than a whisper.

She shook her head. “No, Dr. Hope. He’s been asleep this whole time. Gabby brought Jack in. Thought he would want it when he woke up.”

I smiled, thinking of the huge black man carrying the twelve-inch monkey through the halls.

“That was nice of Gabby. Don’t know what we would do without him.”

She nodded her head in agreement. Gabriel Frost had been here long before me, Cindy, and even Judy. He was part of this institution; no one ever had a bad word to say about him.

“I’ll be in my office, Cindy. Can you call me when he wakes up?”

“Sure, Dr. Hope. How’s Jeffrey? Has anyone heard?”

“I’m going to call Judy now; I’ll let you know. She went over to the hospital about ten minutes ago. He was regaining consciousness before they left.”

“That’s good. He may be a pain in the ass, but he didn’t deserve to get hurt—sorry.” She knew she wasn’t being professional, but we all felt the same way. Jeffrey was not a likeable child, but he was a child in need of love and understanding; he didn’t deserve to be attacked.

“It’s okay, Cindy.” I changed the subject. “What are you reading?

“Nora Roberts.” She lifted the book up so I could see the cover.

“Is it good?” I was always looking for a good book to use as a way to escape the craziness. I loved an author that would make my life seem simple by comparison. The more dysfunctional the people in the story, the more I liked it. Probably why I couldn’t get enough of Stephen King or Dean Koontz.

“Oh yeah,” she answered. “Lots of hot sex, murder, and mayhem. I’ll give it to you when I finish.”

“Sounds good.” I took another look at Brad and quietly walked out the door.

When I got back to my office, I called Judy but got her voice mail. I left her a message asking about Jeffrey’s condition. Knowing Judy, I didn’t expect a callback. She would wait until she got back, so she didn’t have to repeat herself to everyone.

I sat back and realized I was still holding the police officer’s business card. I fantasized for a second calling him and asking him out for dinner. Yeah, I could just imagine how my mother would react to that; not only was he just a cop, but he most likely wasn’t Jewish.

Everyone assumed my mother was Jewish. She wasn’t. She was the child of Irish Catholic immigrants who came to the United States in the ’40s Her father was a big bear of a man who worked for the railroad when he was sober—which wasn’t often.

He was killed in a bar fight one Friday evening, while his wife and young daughter waited for him to come home. The owner of the bar took pity on my grandmother and offered her a job and a place to live.

Penniless, with her young daughter in tow, my grandmother moved to upstate New York to work as a live-in housekeeper for the man and his family. They had a little cottage on their two-acre estate and my grandmother and mother were allowed to live there rent-free.

My mom went to public school in a predominately Jewish neighborhood known as the Borscht Belt. She was the only Catholic in her school and the daughter of a glorified chambermaid. Feeling different, she was uncomfortable and embarrassed. Much to my grandmother’s dismay, my mother yearned to be Jewish. My mother couldn’t understand why she had to have a Christmas tree in her house when everyone else in the neighborhood had a Menorah—or why she had to travel twenty-five miles to go to Sunday school while the Hebrew school all her friends attended was right down the road. My mother felt ashamed of her mother’s status in the neighborhood, and would avoid having friends over for fear they would make fun of her.