Page 98 of The Cost of Love

“Were the conditions correctly explained?” the judge asks.

Reyna clears her throat and at least has the decency to look down. Before she can say anything, our mother speaks.

“I was working out of town. The teenager was watching them. I didn’t know the heat got cut off. She could have called me.” She is now giving the stink eye to Imani, and I can’t help the gasp that comes out.

“Are you really blaming them? Are you serious? With what phone?” I ask.

“Little girl, you don’t know anything.”

I scoff and turn to face the judge, raising my hand. “May I speak? I’d like to tell you exactly what I know.”

He nods and leans forward in his seat.

“This was not the first time she had left us alone, and this is not the first time I have taken care of my siblings. I have been responsible for them since I was five. I fed them, I watched them, and I even had to make sure they didn’t get near any of the needles that were lying about, because god forbid I throw them away. We all knew the type of beating we would get if we did.” I fold my hands together, trying to stop them from shaking. Pulling my shoulders back, I continue.

“I learned how to not only get but administer Narcan at twelve. I knew how to do CPR and check for a pulse. I have seen her overdose multiple times.” I wipe a tear away. “And I understand that addiction is not something she chose. Much like her own mother. But even when she wasn’t high, she would beat us, starve us, and put everyone in front of us. I went to the food banks, donation centers, and thrift stores to make sure we had everything we needed. I was the one who made sure we were okay. If I’m being honest, I don’t know why she wants them back. She has never wanted to be a mother. Not only has she shown it, but she has told us so herself.”

“No, I haven’t!”

“Yes, you have!” I point a finger at her. “You have told me you didn’t want me. You have told me you don’t love me, and even in the happy moments, the rare times that you were good to us, you made sure to let me know that this was a gift we didn’t deserve.”

I can’t stop myself from crying. The tears pouring out of me are pushed forward by the memories I’m forced to think about. It’s years of trauma being spewed out in front of this audience. Still, I gather myself enough to keep speaking.

“Addiction counseling and a new apartment aren’t going to change the fact that she blames us for the life she has. She’s never going to treat them right. She never treated me right. Please don’t let this happen to them.”

I’m furiously wiping my face, but the tears won’t stop. Trying to breathe evenly, I stare straight into his eyes. The room goes silent as the judge looks back and forth between me and our mother. When he seems to come to a conclusion, he sits back.

“Have these circumstances been documented?” he asks.

His question punches me in the gut, causing all air to escape. I bend forward, trying to breathe as reality slowly shifts.

“There had been a few calls while Chanice was a child, and one when she was no longer a part of the household, but this is the first time the kids have been taken out of Ms. Jones’s home,” Reyna states while looking at her folder.

Dana begins to counter, but I can’t hear her. I can’t hear anything she says as the room starts to spin. I look around, trying to find something to latch onto, but all I see is darkness dancing in and out of my vision. I gasp for air, but no matter how wide I open my mouth, nothing seems to be coming in.

“Chanice,” I hear, as something comes down on my shoulder. I look over to see Alex staring at me. He takes a breath in and out and motions for me to do the same. I follow his lead, but still feel like everything is on its axis.

“Ask the kids yourself,” Dana finally concludes.

Judge Martin looks at them, his eyes assessing. I don’t know what he sees, but when I turn, I see kids bawling and absolutely terrified. When he speaks, I know I will wonder for the rest of my life what he took that as.

“While I understand that this might have been your experience. There is nothing to show that this was what actually happened. Why didn’t you ever call anyone?”

“Because I was scared. Because I didn’t know better. I didn’t think anyone would believe me.” Just like he’s not believing me now.

“Even as an adult?” he asks. “If the situation was that bad, why didn’t you try to get custody of your siblings sooner?”

I try not to yell the words or walk across the room and shake some sense into him. I remind myself to stay calm.

“I was sixteen when she kicked me out. I did everything I could for them. I couldn’t afford to have them fully, but I was coming back for them.” I turn to look at them. “I was coming back.”

Imani nods and says, “I know.”

“Am I correct in concluding that you are blaming a child for not knowing how to handle a situation that was an adult’s responsibility?” Dana asks with an icy tone.

“I’m just trying to get to the truth,” Judge Martin says.

“I told you the truth.” It takes everything in me not to scream my frustration.